


Rumors of Glory

by lily8007



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Jason was of age at the end of Lost Days, Prompt Fic, TALIA IS NOT A RAPIST, They are complicated but it's consensual, jay swears a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-10-20 22:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17630852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily8007/pseuds/lily8007
Summary: A series of drabbles set during Jason Todd's training with Talia al Ghul.  I do 'ship them, but most of this is going to be set before the end of Lost Days, so he's still in that phase of having a crush that he thinks is unrequited.  Absolutely nothing happens before he's of age - Talia is not a rapist.  A lot of these drabbles are basically excuses for me to write headcanons and backstories about two characters I adore.These drabbles are fills forTrope Bingo Round Twelve.  Each chapter is a separate fill and prompt, but I'm setting them all in the same "universe" so to speak, and posting them in chronological order.  The chapter titles will be the prompt for which the chapter is the fill.





	1. Trust and Vows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized the trust and vows prompt covers promises, but this one needed to be at the beginning of their partnership. Sorry for it being posted out of chronological order.

Talia surprised him when she said _of course_. Jay hadn’t expected Talia to help him kill Batman. He was her beloved, after all. In a way he almost expected a knife in the back, saying that to her. But no, she was on board with it—maybe she’d finally seen Bruce for what he really was, too. Maybe she’d figured out that loving him was just asking to get your heart broken.

It didn’t matter. Talia pointed out that, by her standards, he was only half-trained. He couldn’t hope to go toe-to-toe with Batman and live. Not that dying in the process would be such a bad thing, but he wouldn’t achieve his goal. There were so many things Bruce had never taught him. What he needed in this fight was the same training Bruce himself had gotten, and refused to pass on: assassin training.

And since he didn’t yet know what exactly he’d have to do in his crusade, he might as well pick up everything else she could teach him. There was time for that, and no such thing as useless knowledge. Not when it came to these people.

Talia had arrangements to make, but he was to meet her back in two days and travel with her to meet the first of his teachers. Apparently just sending him ahead with some kind of proof he was the intended student would violate protocol. Jay knew the underworld was full of paranoid psychos, but that actually made sense. Talia would personally vouchsafe him so this trainer would know exactly who he was—and who _she_ was.

They took an unregistered flight to somewhere in Eastern Europe—it didn’t matter, they wouldn’t be there longer than it took to arrange a face-to-face meeting. Talia checked them both into a hotel over Jay’s protests that he could handle himself. “You don’t speak the language, and this isn’t the West, where everyone speaks a little English. Besides, I always take a suite. You can have the extra bedroom.”

He was decidedly uncomfortable in the room. The towel bars in the bathroom were heated, and the tub was big enough for him to have stretched out without touching any of the sides. There was a separate vanity area with two sinks and what felt like an acre of counter space. The bed in his room had down pillows, a down-filled duvet, and lying on the mattress was like sinking into a cloud. They even had an eating area with a table that could’ve seated four.

Jay had learned how to make do for most of his life, living in a string of shitty apartments and then condemned buildings. Wayne Manor had been a revelation that ultimately turned out to be a pipe dream. When he was on his own, he’d picked cheap, anonymous hotels. This ... this _opulence_ made him uneasy. Memories of the Manor for one, and the persistent sense that he didn’t belong here most of all.

He slunk around the room, feeling displaced, until Talia stopped him and put a menu in his hands. “I specifically requested a menu in English,” she told him. “Order whatever you’d like from room service; the concierge speaks English, too. And get a salad and a pot of mint tea for me, please. I’ve got some calls to make.” When he nodded, she headed into her bedroom with her phone in hand.

Studying the menu, Jay scowled. There wasn’t much on it he recognized, not a pizza or a chilidog in sight. Veal? Foie gras? Meh. The dessert menu, now, that was a different matter. Jay picked up the phone and called down to room service.

 

…

 

“I can arrange a meeting tomorrow, if you like,” Talia said. The voice on the other end of the line demurred. “Later in the week is fine as well. … Friday? Yes, that would be excellent.” She noted the details carefully.

It wasn’t excellent. It wasn’t even just a minor inconvenience. She’d be trapped in this hotel with a brooding sociopath for three full days. Talia hadn’t feared Jason until he told her about his attempt to kill Bruce, how close he’d gotten. How methodically he’d planned the attack. What if he turned on her, with the calculating rage of the Lazarus Pit simmering in him? It wasn’t that she feared she couldn’t handle him. She couldn’t afford to harm him, not even in self defense. If she broke his trust she’d end up having to kill him to save her own life … and she couldn’t bear to kill him.  If he turned on her, it'd be her death.

Her calls completed, Talia walked back out into the main room of the suite. She’d heard room service come in just a few minutes ago, and wanted to drink her tea while it was still hot. What she saw when she entered the room astounded her.

Jason had apparently ordered one of every dessert on the menu, and he was cheerfully working his way through them, taking a few bites of one, then a few bites of another. Her salad—something with both strawberries and pecans, neither in season and therefore expensive—was the only healthy item on the table.

Even though she knew she was looking at over two hundred dollars that had just been charged to her personal card, it gave Talia hope. Some part of Jason was still just a boy, a fairly typical boy at that. She smiled slightly as she walked up to him, and he actually grinned as he dove into some chocolate confection. “They have really good desserts. You should get one of these.”

“Perhaps. Elbows off the table, Jason.” That had slipped out without thinking, but why not? Best to get him used to obeying her anyway. He looked up at her, confused, and she tapped his elbow lightly. “Manners are the main distinction between men and monkeys, Jason. So, elbows off the table, and sit up straight.”

As she poured herself a glass of tea and sweetened it with honey, he sat up and brushed his unruly hair out of his eyes. With her seated across from him, he ate more slowly and more neatly. She smiled in approval, and told him about the upcoming meeting. When he answered, he made sure not to do so with his mouth full.

There was hope for him yet. Talia was beginning to see how she could mold his behavior. Perhaps there was a chance to undo some of what the Pit had done to him, or at least ameliorate it. She only had to buy herself enough time….

 

...

 

Later that night, she woke to a loud crash, and was on her feet with her gun in one hand and a knife in the other before she was even fully conscious. The noise had come from Jason’s room, and Talia ran there, barefoot and silent. Inside, she could hear Jason making a terrible strangled screaming sound.

He’d locked the door, but that style of lock was mere courtesy, not true security. Talia kicked the door open with just two blows, coming in fast and low and ready to kill whoever or whatever had him. But … there was nothing, just Jason thrashing in his bed, hands clawing the air, eyes squeezed shut.

Nightmare. He hadn’t had them before the Pit—perhaps the damage to his mind was too great to allow him dreams of any kind. Talia left both weapons on the nightstand and went to him, calling his name. If he got a full breath and screamed aloud, he’d wake half the hotel and draw a great deal of unwanted attention.

He didn’t hear her, but he swung at her wildly. Talia dodged, catching his shoulder, pulling him close until she could speak by his ear without getting injured. “Jason, wake up. You are safe, Jason. Wake up. It’s only me. You’re safe. Jason, easy, it’s only a dream.”

His struggles suddenly went from frantic to determined, and then he stilled, panting harshly. Talia held him, still murmuring, “You’re safe, Jason, it was only a nightmare.”

Some of the tension left him, and then she sat back, releasing her hold on him. Talia stroked his sweaty hair from his face as Jay sat up, half-turned to her. His eyes were wild still, flicking between her … and the gun on the nightstand.

“Easy, Jason,” she told him, taking his hand gently. “When I heard you, I didn’t know it was just a nightmare, either.”

“Not just a nightmare,” he said thickly, shuddering.

She squeezed the nape of his neck, firm enough to be reassuring, light enough not to threaten him. “You are safe with me, I swear it. I would not allow anyone or anything to harm you. Ever.”

That seemed to calm him for the moment, but he hunched in on himself, looking embarrassed. At the show of weakness, perhaps? Or was he just a teenage boy who’d suddenly realized he had a beautiful woman sitting on his bed? She favored the latter explanation, and welcomed it as a normal reaction.

Talia smiled, and rose gracefully. “Sleep well, Jason,” she murmured, and leaned in to kiss his temple before gathering her weapons and leaving the room.

At the door, she paused. “You may wish to leave this open. I’d rather wake you from the start of a nightmare than the end.” On that she left, leaving the door cracked behind her, and likewise left her own bedroom door open when she retired. It went against the custom of a lifetime not to have a locked door behind her while she slept, but she could not ask anything of Jason that she wasn’t willing to do herself.

 

…

 

Jay almost didn’t remember the nightmare until the next morning, when he saw the door standing open and the shattered wood around the lock. Talia had kicked it in last night; the lock itself had held, but the wood it was set in was weak and had given way. He stood looking at it for a moment, thinking.

She’d kicked a door in to get to him, come blazing in with knife and gun, and then promised he'd be safe with her.  He was used to broken promises, some deliberate, though in recent years they'd mostly been the kind of promises the person making them couldn't keep, no matter how much they wanted to.  Did he trust Talia, after all?  _Really_ trust her, enough to believe she'd keep her word, and keep him safe?  When even Jay knew he wasn't safe just in a room by himself, even he knew there was still Lazarus-green fire running through his psyche, and he couldn't tell where it would burst out or who would get scorched.

The answer, surprisingly, was _yes_.  He did trust her.

He shuffled into the shower, and by the time he came out breakfast awaited him. American-style breakfast, with the works: milk, orange juice, bacon, sausage and eggs. Crepes instead of pancakes, and diced potatoes instead of hash browns, but it was homey enough that he dove in happily. Remembering to keep his elbows off the table, of course. Talia nudged a dish of fresh fruit toward him; she was having coffee, a croissant, grapefruit, and yogurt for breakfast. Jay would’ve passed on the fruit, but a raised eyebrow from Talia warned him that he’d better not.

“Sure you don’t want some eggs with that?” he asked her.

“I tend to eat lightly in the mornings,” Talia replied, sipping coffee. “Our meeting with the chemist isn’t until Friday, as you know. You’ll have today and tomorrow free.”

He paused in mid-chew, then resumed slowly. The last few months, every moment of his life he was either engaged in pursuing his goal, or waiting impatiently for the next step to unfold. Free time had become a foreign concept. Jay had absolutely no idea what to do with two whole days.

Talia caught on to his indecision. “Perhaps we could take a tour of the city. See the sights, as it were.”

Jay scowled. He swung the fork back and forth in his fingers, first pointing it at himself, then her, then back to himself. “We’re not on vacation, Talia. This is revenge, not a holiday.”

“There’s more to life than revenge,” she replied, distinctly cool.

He probably ought to stay in her good graces. And besides, what else was he going to do for two days? “Have it your way. Let’s do the tour.”

The gracious smile she gave him made Jay feel a bit like a slow student who’d just caught on to the lesson.

 

 

 


	2. Unrequited Love / Pining

Jason Todd knew he was the biggest idiot in the world.  Absolutely, completely, beyond all competition, the dumbest of the dumbfucks.

He had a crush.

On Talia al Ghul.

He was _so_ fucked.

Of all the people in all the world he could possibly have a crush on, his stupid hormonal adolescent brain picked _Talia_.  Daughter of the Demon, Queen of Assassins. His benefactor, his mentor, yeah that made sense - oh wait, also his adoptive father’s _wife_.  Not that it was the _healthiest_ marriage in the world, even before factoring in Catwoman and the other complications.  That’s still just the first of several reasons why his crush was completely ridiculous.

Talk about ‘out of his League’, Talia was top-tier in the League of _Assassins_.  Same league in which he was an unofficial _trainee_ , at best.  The woman was drop-dead gorgeous - literally! - and fabulously rich and had multiple degrees and could run a business or run someone through with a sword with equal ease.  Meanwhile Jay was an orphan from the Gotham gutter whose sole claim to fame was that he used to be Robin. She belonged with somebody like Bruce, someone larger-than-life like her, someone who could stand at her side as an equal.  Not the charity-case boy whose life she saved, whom she helped in his war for reasons of her own.

And yet every time he saw her, his heart skipped and his head got light and he had to try _really hard_ not to blush like a fucking kid who just discovered girls.  Sometimes he had to look down when they were talking, especially when she smiled at him approvingly, because she was just too fucking beautiful for him to maintain his half of the conversation.  Whenever he glanced back up, shyly - and wasn’t that absurd, he could kill a man a dozen ways but he got _shy_ around her, who had more kills to her name than he ever would - sometimes he'd catch her giving him this indulgent little look that made him want to _die_.  Because she _knew_ , she knew he was totally besotted like the idiot teenager he actually was, she knew he looked at her and wondered how her lips would taste, and oh God please just let him die right then.

There was amusement in her eyes, moments like that, but it never broke into laughter.  If she laughed at him, Jay thought he probably _would_ die of sheer embarrassment.

And then, with his luck, she’d bring him back again just to tell him how melodramatic and foolish that was.

He didn't have a chance in Hell - ha ha, good pun, talking about the Daughter of the Demon - and he knew that, too, so Jay stuffed the awkward feelings down inside somewhere.  He made himself talk around the tightness in his chest and look her in the eyes no matter how ridiculously fucking tempting it was to check out the hint of cleavage she usually displayed.  He did not, _ever_ , come on to her, even when he was watching her walk and just the grace of her stride made his whole body tingle.

It was just a crush, and he was just the dumb sap who went and fell ludicrously in love with the hottest and most dangerous woman alive, so Jay just choked on the feelings and hoped he’d get over it eventually.


	3. Road Trip

The dozenth time Jason gripped the door handle and made that expression of horror, Talia finally spoke up. “Relax, Jason. This is not the worst road I’ve ever driven.”

“Holy shit, I don’t wanna see the one that tops your list,” he managed to say, staring out the passenger window at the steep, rocky slope only inches from the tires.

“Language,” she said idly. Talia had already come to the conclusion that Jay cherished the rough edges of his personality, and trying to curb his profanity would be useless. At least his training would give him enough languages to put some variety into his swearing.

“Cut me some slack. Even the alleys are paved in Gotham. This isn’t a road, it's a deathtrap. And we haven’t seen another car for an hour.”

Talia smiled, a little. He protested loudly at situations outside his control, but Jason adapted. He was more resilient than even he knew. “This route is better than trying to walk up the mountain.”

“Not by much,” he groused.  “Just so you know, from where I’m sitting it looks like the tires are over the edge.”

She smiled at that, focusing on the drive.  There was another hairpin curve ahead, and he winced as they negotiated it.  At least now his side was toward the rock wall and not the drop. Talia eased the jeep through a series of deep ruts; the road was nearly washed out, and the vehicle’s suspension was not as good as she’d hoped.  Both of them rocked in their seats as they bounced through.

“Why does this guy live on top of an impassable mountain, anyway?” Jason asked after a while.

“To ensure that anyone who comes seeking his wisdom is truly dedicated,” she replied.  “He is a master of many martial arts, and if he were more accessible, he would have more apprentices than he can manage.”

He scoffed.  “Right. None of these guys ever heard of just telling someone there’s no spots available?”

Talia smiled a little, slowing down to negotiate another tight turn.  “There is also the fact that he would face too many challengers, were he more easily reached.  Other masters, or arrogant students, might try to make their own name by defeating him.”

“So he’s scared of the competition?”  Jason knew better, but it was his nature to push any conversation, trying to find the limits of what would be tolerated.  She had seen it with Bruce, heard it reported by his teachers, and experienced it herself. Talia privately thought it was more irreverence than actual disrespect; a fine shade of meaning, but worth noting.  He merely sought to know what would happen when he crossed a boundary, so he could plan his actions and reactions accordingly. She couldn’t fault him for that.

Talia chose not to take his remarks as doubts of her ability to choose teachers.  “Hardly. It is merely efficient to weed out one’s less committed challengers. At this level of proficiency, it is a waste of time to deal with anyone not dedicated to the pursuit of perfection.”

“I don’t have time for perfection,” he reminded her.

No, of course not, but every moment she could delay him was worth it, for giving her more chances to plan.  Talia did not need to answer, however, because a bend in the road revealed a rockfall blocking half the already-narrow road.  Jason eyed it warily. “Are we gonna have to back down?”

“Doubtful,” she replied, halting to observe the road.  It ought to be just room enough to squeeze the jeep past the obstruction.  The boulders were too large and heavy to consider stopping to clear them; they would need the winch, and several hours’ work, which would have them arriving at the summit after dark.  The man they were going to meet would not receive them well if they arrived so late.

So she edged the jeep forward, aware of Jason wincing at her side.  “There’s not enough room,” he protested.

“Just trust me,” Talia said.

“I do trust you, but I don’t trust this road … or that drop.”  The last curve put him on the downhill side again, and he peered out the window worriedly.

Even that casual admission of trust made her smile.  When he’d first come back to himself, Jason had trusted no one.  She’d had to coax him as gently and carefully as a wild horse, only the faintest of pressure, the merest hint of a suggestion as to which path he should take.  Luckily for them both, he’d been persuaded to accept this apprenticeship rather than some more brutal plan to murder the Detective.

He still planned to kill the man he’d once considered a father.  Talia was under no illusions, there. But she might be able to bend him away from that road by infinitesimal degrees, until he choose to do something more than vengeance with his own life.  

She had no grand scheme in mind, though he probably thought she did.  She had always been someone with a plan, never this sort of improvisation.  Talia just stalled him, and tried to guide where she might, in hopes that he would trust her and let the Lazarus-fueled rage burn out on its own.

Talia gauged the distance one more time, and said, “We’ll make it.”  And then she drove forward, the driver’s side mirror a hair’s breadth away from the boulder, the passenger tires only inches from the drop.  There was just barely enough room…

They’d made it past the worst, and she was steering carefully back toward the center of the road, when the back of the jeep suddenly seemed to drop.  The fragile edge had crumbled away, leaving the rear passenger tire suspended over air.

Jason yelped, smart enough to lunge toward her side of the bench seat; his weight over the more secure tire might be just enough to stop them tipping.  Talia swore under her breath, giving it more gas even as she turned harder toward the boulder. For an endless second the tires spun, then caught, and she heard a squeal of metal as the rock dug at their fender.  But they were past, the rear tire climbing back up onto the road, and Talia accelerated away as the road behind them continued to erode.

She parked on a more solid stretch, turning to look.  There was no way out, now, until someone moved that boulder.  Jason turned also, his face going paler at the side of more rocks falling away from the treacherous edge.  “I told you I didn’t trust that edge!”

“And I told you we’d make it,” Talia said, looking at him with a slight smile.

She saw the moment when he realized he was sitting entirely too close to her.  Talia was not unaware of Jason’s complicated feelings regarding her; she knew her effect on men very well, and could have thoroughly ensorcelled him, if she chose.  It had even occurred to her, fleetingly, that desire made a very good leash, and if she indulged his attraction, she might be better able to direct him.

But no.  Jason was not a target to be manipulated.  She had spent too many hours with him during his silent year, sitting on the cliff’s edge and pouring out her heart to the one person who would not judge her.  He did not seem to remember those conversations now, but perhaps his wary trust in her came from them. Talia would not betray him now by using him so. Therefore she made no comment on his crush, and did not figure that into her calculations on how to keep him from murdering Bruce.

Jason swallowed nervously and looked down, sliding back over to his side.  “Can you find my next teacher some place with actual roads? And maybe a pizza joint within a hundred miles?”

“I’ll do my best,” Talia chuckled, and drove on.


	4. Food and Cooking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're following this, the fills may not be posted in chronological order - I'm feeling the deadline approach, and I want to at least get a bingo if not the blackout bingo I intended. So I'm gonna try to get the prompts done for a bingo, and then fill back in the rest of the prompts as time allows. That means a month from now I might be posting a new chapter between existing chapters, to keep the overall story at least roughly in order. I apologize for the confusion.

A year into his training, Jason Todd finally found himself invited into one of Talia’s homes - while he was able to remember it, no less.  She had always met him in the ritzy hotels she preferred, or the rooms and apartments he stayed in. But they happened to be in Hong Kong, where she had an apartment, and while his next teacher was being located she allowed him to stay with her.

Jay tried to be a good guest, but his native curiosity and investigative training wouldn’t let him ignore the opportunities to for a little research.  He quickly discovered that there was a weapon within arm’s reach of every single seat in the place - that no room was without at least two exits and three or more weapons.  He also learned that Talia read poetry, several volumes of it in multiple languages on her shelves. The most well-thumbed was by someone called Rumi, and Jay looked up English translations, realizing the man wrote hauntingly of love.  Epic love poems didn’t seem to suit the Queen of Assassins, at least not unless you really knew her.

What startled him the most, though, was finding the pantry and refrigerator bare.  At first, that made sense, since she hadn’t lived here in some time. But as the days wore on and they dined out at the many little restaurants and cafes in the area, Jay began to eye those empty shelves curiously.  Talia soon stocked bottled water and fresh fruit and some snacks, but the only cooking he ever saw her do was boiling water for tea, or making coffee.

He didn’t want to ask an intrusive question, but it gnawed at him, and he finally blurted it out one afternoon when he was nibbling his way through some spiky-looking but tasty fruit he’d never seen in Gotham.  “Do you ever cook? I mean, not that I’m complaining, the food here is really good, but you don’t keep pots and pans and stuff like that here.”

She arched an eyebrow at him warningly, and he shrugged.  “Sorry. It’s just a question. You keep me a lot better fed than I would, left to my own devices.”

Talia sipped the tea she’d been drinking, took one of the fruits off his plate, and peeled it with a knife he hadn’t seen her draw.  “As a matter of fact, no. I do not cook. I have staff for that, in most of my homes, and elsewhere I prefer to enjoy the local cuisine.  I don’t recall you expressing an interest in culinary school, Jason.”

He was young, and preoccupied by plans for his battle against Bruce, but Jay wasn’t _entirely_ obtuse.  That response was pointed enough to tell him she’d taken some offense to it.  “I can make ramen or a grilled cheese sandwich,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just, I’ve never been in somebody’s house that _never_ cooked.  Then again I haven’t been in a lot of houses.”

Alfred cooked, at the Manor, and Jay was swamped by a totally useless craving for the butler’s homemade mac and cheese.  Or pancakes, _man_ , Alfred made the best blueberry pancakes.  And that lovely little nostalgic road wasn’t leading him anywhere good, so Jay yanked his focus away from it.

Talia was looking into her tea cup as it might contain an explanation for his curiosity, and then she sighed, meeting his gaze.  “I spent my childhood learning math, science, philosophy, history, and above all, martial arts. There was no time for such banalities as cooking.  Besides, we had servants.”

“Your mom never cooked anything special for you?” Jay asked, thinking back to Catherine - the only mother he’d ever had worthy of the name - and how even at her frailest, she’d make him his favorite minestrone soup when he wasn’t feeling well.  It came from a can, but she put a few more herbs and spices in it, and brought it to him in a chipped bowl on a tray with saltine crackers. It was never about the soup itself, it was the caring in the gesture that satisfied his hunger for love more than food.

Talia blinked.  “My mother died when I was three.  I never knew her.” And then she changed the subject, but Jay never forgot the loneliness in her eyes.


	5. Sharing a Bed

They were deep in the mountains on the border of Pakistan and India when fresh revolt broke out.  Talia swore under her breath - Jason had been picking up Urdu and Punjabi during their stay, and recognized a handful of words that implied anatomically impossible things about whatever idiots started this particular fight.

“We need to stay out of sight,” she told him over the crackle of automatic weaponry in the distance.  “The conflict is likely as much ethnic as religious, and I do not relish the idea of being attacked simply because I’m Arabic. As for you, given American interference in the region, you will be a target as well.”

“You think it won’t last long?” he asked, more interested than afraid.  Jay knew himself to be a weapon more deadly than the guns he could hear, and Talia?  Hell, he’d bet on Talia against an entire  _ army _ .  He’d seen her fight.

Talia shook her head.  “If it does, we can arrange for transport, but I suspect this is merely one of many minor outbreaks of the tension that’s been rife here since the partition of India and the dissolution of the British Raj.  Once the initial outrage is satisfied by blood spilled in the streets, cooler heads will prevail for a time, and the violence will condemned by both sides. At least, until the next quarrel.”

That was an awfully cynical way to look at it, considering people were dying, but he figured she’d earned the right to be jaded.  And no matter how much he hated the idea of innocents caught in the conflict, the two of them were particularly ill-equipped to be of any help, this time, so it was best they lie low.

Emergency accommodations for two dangerous people in the middle of what might be a war zone were rather difficult to come by, particularly considering the level of security they were looking for.  Talia at last found a room well off the beaten path, where an exorbitant fee assured that no one would hear about the Arab woman and the American boy taking cover in the midst of conflict. 

It was a tiny room with few amenities, and at first Jay didn’t notice the obvious problem. He was too busy cataloguing the possible exits, noticing the furnishings only as possible barricades or cover if they  _ were _ attacked. The sound of mortar fire in the distance did not bode well.

Then he realized there was only one bed, just a small mattress up on a rickety frame, its feet set in weird cups, and he blushed. “Guess I'm sleeping on the floor,” he said, trying to play it cool.

“Or we sleep in shifts, the better to keep watch,” she replied casually, and neither of them mentioned it again.

As the day drew to a close, the sounds of battle grew nearer and more intense. It looked like neither of them would get any sleep, so the bed situation was forgotten.

No one came too close to their hideout, though Talia arranged her weapons carefully to hand, sitting on the bed and dividing her attention between the windows and the door. Jay sat on the floor by the wall, one gun aimed loosely toward the door, his other hand on the spare magazine. No lights, so as not to attract attention, both of them listening warily in the dark. 

More steady crackling of small-arms fire and submachine guns. More coughing thunder of mortars. But it sounded like it was moving away. Jay began to let himself relax, as stretches of quiet punctuated the gunfire.

In one of those silences, he heard a funny little scritching noise, somewhere in the room. “You hear that?” he asked Talia, thinking they had mice. 

She had a small pen light, and turned it on, aiming toward the sound. Jay didn’t think of himself as being afraid of ‘critters’ - he'd lived in abandoned houses with roaches that flew and spiders the size of his hand - but the creature illuminated by the spot of light woke an atavistic horror in him. It was the biggest fucking scorpion he’d ever seen, with huge claws and a thick tail that looked  _ full _ of venom. 

He meant to yelp something like, ‘ _ holyfuckingshitwhatthefuckis _ **_that_ ** ?!’ but the only sound that came from his throat was a strangled squeak as he scrambled to his feet.

In the next instant, he was embarrassed by his fear. “Jesus fucking  _ Christ _ that thing is ugly,” he said in the gruffest voice he could manage. 

“And quite deadly,” Talia said dryly. “Do not try to crush it, it may sting you in the process. Come here. The bed frame sits in cups of water to keep them from crawling up.”

He was more than grateful to cross the room and hop up beside her, even though she had to move her sword and a gun to make space for him. Talia moved the light around, and Jay shuddered to see two more scorpions crawling around.  If he hadn’t heard them, one of those things could've been  _ on him _ . She frowned at the sight.  “My apologies, I should have realized the building was infested when I saw the bed frame.”

“No worries, we were both distracted,” he told her. “Not like there’s a minor war outside or anything.”

That earned him a chuckle as Talia’s flashlight continued tracking the scorpions. One of them stopped and seemed to stare toward the light, its tail arched threateningly, its claws flexing. Jay shuddered again, and Talia looked at him curiously.

“I don’t mind snakes or spiders or roaches or rats,” he explained. “But  _ those _ things? They’re just too freaky-looking for me. Not like we have them in Gotham.”

“No, that’s too far north,” she agreed, with a small smile. “I spent much of my childhood in regions where they are endemic. In fact, I used to catch them, as a little girl.”

He stared at her.  “Catch them? Wait, like grab them barehanded, the way I used to catch grasshoppers in vacant lots?” She nodded, and his mind boggled. “Holy shit,  _ why?” _

“Because it proved my speed and dexterity,” she told him with a shrug. “The deadlier the specimen, the more pride I took in my prowess. Also because, like any child, I was fascinated by the natural world. Father approved of my interest, and my skill. He might have regretted that when I was thirteen and moved on to catching saw-scaled vipers. Very fast, very temperamental little serpents, the  _ Echis _ species.”

Jay just shook his head slowly. “I collected freaking  _ pogs _ as a little kid. You had some special hobbies, T. Did you ever get stung or bit?”

“Not too badly,” she told him. “We had the best physicians, on those occasions I miscalculated.” Jay could only marvel. No wonder she was such a fearless badass now.

Talia cut off the light, and listened intently. “The guns have gone silent.”

“Good,” Jay said. “Maybe we can make some progress. Do we leave tonight?”

“In the morning,” she decided. “We may as well get some sleep.”

Jay couldn’t see her expression in the dimness, and hesitated at her matter-of-fact tone. “Umm … that could get awkward. It’s a small bed.”

“A little awkwardness is better than being stung by a scorpion,” she replied. And then, with a touch of amusement, “I assume you have better manners than to attempt to take advantage?”

He spluttered, glad of the dark that hid his flaming blush. “ _ No! _ Shit, come on, that’s ridiculous. No, it’s just…”

“Uncomfortable,” she supplied. “I know. A sense of humor in such matters will serve you well in smoothing them over, Jason. Also, women find it quite charming.”

“You're making fun of me,” he muttered sullenly, hunching his shoulders.

She put a gentle hand on the back of his head, her fingers ruffling his hair before slipping down to cup the nape of his neck. It was a feeling he could almost remember, from times in his mute and almost-mindless year when her touch grounded and soothed him. “Forgive me,” Talia said softly. “You are so very serious, Jason, that I forget how young you are.”

“Not helping,” he grumbled, but his shoulders were unknotting beneath her hand, her thumb brushing lightly over his skin.

“I am not mocking you.  I care far too much for you to treat you so shabbily,” she told him. “Be at ease, Jason.  I will sleep better for having someone I trust at my back.”

“Same here,” he said, and when she stretched out, he laid down too, careful to leave as much space as possible between them. Talia picked the side nearest the door, her sword unsheathed beside her, and Jay lay on his side watching the window with his gun under his hand. They both stayed fully dressed, the better to meet any threat. 

Time passed in silence, Jay staring at the slightly-lighter square that was the window, exquisitely aware of the woman beside him. Her breathing was even and slow, and he kept himself still to let her sleep. He gave up on the idea of sleep for himself, this was just too weird. Jay wasn’t used to the idea of sharing a bed with  _ anyone _ . The last time he could remember, his mother had still been alive. What if he rolled over and tried to cuddle? He suppressed a shiver of mortification.

Jay was absolutely certain that he’d never fall asleep, right up until the moment he drifted off.  When he woke in the morning, Talia was already up and standing by the window. He was just glad he’d woken up in the same position he’d fallen asleep in.

Talia saw him sit up, and smiled.  “Good morning. It ought to be safe enough for us to go out and get some breakfast.  Personally, I’m quite ready to risk my life for coffee.”

“Dunno about our risking our lives, but I could kill for some caffeine,” Jay joked back, carefully, and she rewarded him with a chuckle.

He supposed that was confirmation that he hadn’t overstepped any boundaries in his sleep.  And that was good enough, for the moment.


	6. Celebratory Kiss

This last trainer was a nightmare. Talia had warned him going in that the man was intense, focused, possibly obsessive - but a master martial artist, very much worth learning from. Jay found himself having to live up to a very exacting standard; the guy wanted to be called sensei, and even dictated what Jay could eat while under his tutelage.

  
It had been worth it, though Jay was very glad it was over. He was craving a big greasy cheeseburger, a beer, and a cigarette, all ‘spiritual impurities’ he’d been living without the last four months.

  
He’d gotten a ride into the city, and sent Talia a message letting her know where he was heading, then found himself a hotel with room service where he could indulge. After two cheeseburgers and three beers, Jay hauled himself to bed to sleep it all off.

…

Several hours later, Jay woke up to the insistent feeling that he wasn’t alone. He’d set traps by the door and windows, but none had gone off. He woke quickly, rolling out of bed with one hand on his gun.

  
“It’s only me,” Talia said calmly. Jay turned on the light to look at her; she had walked in, carrying what looked like a bottle of champagne, and was now regarding the empty dishes and beer bottles with a considering air. “I meant to celebrate your success, but it appears you’ve already done so.”

  
He scrubbed a hand through his hair, tucking the gun back under his pillow. “Sorry. I’ve been practically vegetarian for four months, not to mention no alcohol, nicotine, or caffeine. Or swearing. If he thinks that makes me enlightened, he’s wrong - I was just hungry and jonesing.”

  
“He spoke very highly of you,” Talia said, setting the champagne down. “In fact, he told me I ought to be impressed, that you were a very diligent and dedicated student.”

  
“The sooner he pronounced me done training, the sooner I could leave and eat some real food,” Jay said in deadpan tones.

Talia cut him a look. “You may convince everyone else, if you like, including yourself. But I know there is more to you that base hedonism.”

  
“Don’t start on the whole ‘I was meant for something more’ schtick, please,” Jay complained. “I’m not special, Talia. Just lucky. Mostly lucky that you found me.”  
She sighed, and let it go. “As you wish. But I would prefer to mark your success with something more celebratory than room service.”

  
Jay shrugged. “Champagne brunch, maybe?”

  
“Perhaps,” Talia said, and then a playful light sprang up in her eyes. She crossed the room to him, and Jay watched her approach, wondering what was on her mind. Talia was mostly serious, almost businesslike, but she had her occasional whims, and the part of him that had a hopeless crush on her loved seeing those rare lighthearted moments. He didn’t know what she intended, but Jay was already smiling hopefully.

  
Talia stepped into his personal space and reached out to touch his jaw lightly, and at first Jay was just confused. Then she leaned up, and kissed the corner of his mouth, softly, almost chastely.

  
Almost.

  
For a long moment, the only coherent thought in his mind was surprise that she had to lean up to do it. Jay was so accustomed to looking up to Talia, whether literally or figuratively, that it came as a shock to realize he’d grown taller than her.

  
Most of him was laser-focused on the silken brush of her lips, the faint scent of her perfume, the slight pressure of her fingertips along his jaw. The reality of it tolled through him with sheer wonder. Jay had been trying to throttle his attraction to her for so long, now all he wanted was to live in this moment and have it last forever. Just one kiss, from her, that’d be enough.

  
But she stepped back with a secretive little smile, and his heart started beating again. Jay was uncomfortably aware that he looked completely stunned, and was starting to blush.

  
“A champagne brunch tomorrow would be lovely,” Talia said, as if she hadn’t just kissed him in congratulations. “Sleep well, Jason.”  
She swept out, still smiling, and Jay stood looking after her far longer than he should’ve.

At last he shook his head. “Yeah, congrats to me,” Jay chuckled, and went back to bed.


	7. Amnesia

Talia was always punctual, so when she didn’t arrive within a few minutes of the time she’d told him to expect her, Jay was at first confused.  When she was half an hour late, he called, but she didn’t answer, and he left only a brief message asking if everything was okay. He wouldn’t fill up her phone with missed calls and messages; if she was late, there was an important reason.

When she didn’t show or respond within three hours, he began to get seriously nervous.  They both led dangerous lives, after all, and he knew that her father didn’t exactly approve of his training.  Ra’s al Ghul had been on the verge of killing her for putting Jay in the Lazarus Pit in the first place.

She might be in trouble, and if that was on his account, Jay had to at least _try_ to do something about it.  So he set about tracking her down.  Not the easiest task in the world, but he knew where she should’ve been, and once he started nosing around the area, it was relatively easy to spot a couple of League assassins hanging around.  They were good, but they didn’t do ‘casual’ very well.

Jay decided on the direct approach.  The place they were guarding was a warehouse, so he marched right up to them.  Before he reached them, a third man he _hadn’t_ seen stepped out of concealment.  The others were dressed in nondescript clothing; this one wore a suit that was probably tailored.  “This is not a good time, Jason.”

Jay bristled at the too-familiar use of his name, but at least it meant this was someone Talia trusted.  Of course, if her trust was misplaced, he might have to kill all three of them. “Why not?” he asked, as if he had every right to know.  “Oh, and I didn’t catch your name.”

The man gave him a chagrined smile.  “I am Tuwile; I have been assisting Talia in managing your training.  As for why it is a bad time … one of the occupational hazards of being an assassin is that people sometimes try to kill you first.  Talia has been poisoned. We gave her an antidote, and she will recover, but there are … side effects.”

“What kind of side effects?” Jay demanded.

Tuwile looked at him seriously.  “Lazarus fever. The antidote is derived from the Pit.”

Jay winced, remembering bright vile green staining his vision, and the stench of death overlaid by the cloying smell of jasmine.  “Why didn’t you call her father?”

“She forbade us,” Tuwile replied.  “This antidote will take longer to cure her, though the madness it causes is slightly less severe.  She thought her father might choose the more expedient option.”

“He would,” Jay grumbled.

Tuwile nodded.  “Temporary amnesia is one of the symptoms.  So we stand guard, until it passes and Talia remembers that we are her loyal servants, not the enemies the fever paints us.”

Jay nodded.  Just then, he heard a resounding crash from somewhere in the warehouse, and tensed.  The other three men did so as well, looking at the door, but none of them moved to open it.  “Why aren’t you in there trying to help her?” Jay asked sharply. “She could hurt herself worse.”

Tuwile raised his eyebrows.  “Talia may not remember her own name, but she remembers very well what a sword is.”

He couldn’t help scoffing at that; it sounded like cowardice.  “Right. Well, if you’re too afraid to help her, I’m not.” He started to move toward the door, but Tuwile caught his shoulder.

Jay reacted as he’d been trained, drawing his gun, but Tuwile stepped back quickly and raised his hands.  “I only mean to keep you safe, as I was ordered,” he said, as earnestly as a trained assassin could. “She does not remember you, either.”

“She won’t hurt me,” Jay said, surprised at his own certainty.

Tuwile stared at him a moment, then nodded.  “Very well. But leave your weapon with me. She will see you as an armed opponent otherwise, and react as she was trained to.”

“Fine.”  Jay handed over his gun - he still had the kris and a garrote, but he didn’t plan to use either.  Tuwile took it carefully, and nodded to the men. They opened the door warily, and Jay stepped past all of them.

Once he was inside, they locked the door behind him.  Jay surveyed the warehouse, dimly light by high windows.  There were huge racks of shelving reaching to the ceiling, mostly empty, but some crates were stacked haphazardly on them.  Further in was a big open space. Jay smelled dust and old paper and rusty metal, and he could hear water dripping somewhere.  But he didn’t hear movement, which was what he was hoping for.

“Talia?” he called, and heard a crashing noise off to his left.  Jay moved that way, carefully, still speaking in the most reassuring voice he could muster.  “Talia, it’s me. It’s Jay. I’m here to help you. I know things are freaky right now, but you’re gonna be fine.”

He rounded the end of the shelves and saw a box of some kind of metal parts that had spilled onto the floor.  No sign of Talia, though. He stepped forward cautiously. “Talia?”

Training saved him - he felt air movement, and whirled around.  She might be amnesiac, but Talia remembered how to set an ambush, and Jay just barely managed to duck the sword that swept over his head.  He tried to step back, and she followed, pressing the attack with a sweep-kick that took his feet out from under him.

 _Shit shit_ **_shit_** _, she’s better than me, I’m gonna get_ **_creamed_** _,_ Jay thought, trying to scramble away.  She stepped in, pulling the sword back for another swing, and kicked at him again, catching his thigh with bruising force that made that leg stop working properly.

His training told him to fight, but Jay knew he couldn’t beat her, so he raised his hands and squeaked, “Wait!”

The sword swept down … and halted, just above his hands.  He opened his eyes, wincing to see the blade so close, then looked past it at her face.

Talia looked utterly feral, her lips curled back in a snarl.  She was breathing hard, her hair rumpled, a cut along her forearm starting to clot.  What caught Jay’s attention was her eyes.

He remembered when he’d first met Talia, back when he was Robin, her eyes had been dark brown with green flecks.  When he came back from the dead, her eyes were hazel, green and light brown. Now, as she glared at him, the green in them blazed the same balefire color as the Pit itself.  

She stared down at him, panting.  “I know you,” she said, questioningly.  Her accent was heavier, her voice rough.

“Yeah, you do,” Jay said, encouragingly.  He reached out, carefully, and moved the sword aside with one fingertip.  “I’m Jason Todd. Your … protege, I guess. Do you remember what happened to you?”

For a moment, she looked blank.  Then rage lit in Talia’s eyes, and the sword swung back toward him, Jay leaning back to keep it from pricking his throat.  “I remember dying,” Talia growled.

“Me, too,” was all Jay could think to say, and that gave her pause.  “Could you maybe _not_ cut my throat?  You risked a lot bringing me back the first time, and personally I don’t wanna go through that again.”

“I brought you back,” she mused, but lowered the sword, taking a wary step back.  Jay stayed on the floor; he didn’t want to spook her into stabbing him. “Who brought _me_ back?”

“You didn’t die, this time,” Jay told her.  “This is just a side effect of the antidote they gave you.  You’re gonna be okay.”

“I only remember dying,” she said, and her voice shook.  “I don’t even remember who I am!”

Jay sat up, slowly.  “Your name is Talia al Ghul.  You’re the daughter of Ra’s al Ghul - the Daughter of the Demon.  You and your dad run the League of Assassins, but you’re not just a killer.  Your father raised you to be an assassin, and to carry on his mission to … well, save the world, but his way means killing a whole lot of people.  You’re one of the top martial artists in the world, you run most of his businesses, and you were in love with a guy called Batman. Enough that you risked your life to save the son he wouldn’t.  Or couldn’t. That’s me, by the way. I used to be Robin. Now you’re helping me get my revenge for him not putting down my killer, mostly by training me the same way your dad trained _him_.”  

She stared at him, frowning a little, and Jay leaned forward, his voice earnest.  “You saved my life, and you’ve been looking after me ever since. I wouldn’t be who I am now without you.  You’re the strongest person I know, you’ll stand up against anybody, even your dad, for what you believe in.  Is any of this ringing any bells?”

She looked at him blankly, which he supposed was answer enough.


	8. Locked In

Talia couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here.  All she knew was the storm of emotion caging her inside her own mind, just as she was locked into this strange building.  Outer circumstances mattered little against the bands constricting her heart.

Rage and fear and the horror of a soul that _knew_ it should have been dead, a soul denied peace and dragged through hell to return to life, where worse than hell awaited.  Pain, each time a different pain, a different death, until it all blurred together into one long howl of agony from the marrow of her bones to the roots of her hair.  Too many deaths, knife and gun and chokehold, too many times her vision grayed as she bled out or strangled, just too much of all of it.

She paced the confines of the place, some returning scraps of rationality recognizing this as some sort of warehouse.  No one else was here, but all three doors were locked from the outside, and the windows were out of reach.

She paced, and shivered at the terrible void beyond her memories of death and resurrection.   _Someone_ had done this to her, she was certain of that much, and whoever it was would _pay_.  She kept her sword out, the weight of it in her hand comforting.

And then a door opened.  Wary as a caged tigress, Talia hid and listened.  She heard a familiar voice calling in a language she knew wasn’t her own, but she’d spoken it most of her life.  Maybe this person was responsible for her current state. She kicked over a box, and waited for him to approach.

He did, the fool.  A young man, black-haired, blue-eyed, she knew that she knew him, but couldn’t remember _how_ , and that infuriated her into attacking.

The boy didn’t fight back, only tried to escape, and he appeared to be unarmed.  She hesitated, letting him speak. The things he told her sounded familiar, but as if she’d read them in a book.  Not as if they applied to _her_.  And that frustrated her more.

“I don’t know,” Talia admitted when he asked if she remembered any of it.  Her head throbbed miserably, and she was entirely too aware that she was locked in here with this man who claimed to know her.  

It was not in her nature to tolerate confinement.  She wanted _out_.  She looked at the man - this Jason Todd - assessingly.  He was properly cautious and respectful, but offered no threat, and he seemed to expect her to trust him.  Perhaps he was indeed her protege. Talia had only the vaguest memories stirred by his claim, and for some reason they were of an even younger version of him, more boy than man.  Something about sitting on a cliffside, watching the sun set … pouring her heart out, and hearing no answer.

“If you are my ally, get me out of here,” Talia said.

He grimaced, and she stepped back smoothly, drawing the sword up between them.  Jason raised his hands. “Easy, Talia, just … chill for a second. Your people locked you in here so you wouldn’t hurt anyone while you burn through this.”

“And yet they cast you to me, as a lamb before the wolf?” she asked archly.

He laughed at that, much to her surprise, and the laugh struck echoes in her memory.  Often sarcastic, but she’d heard it given in genuine amusement a few times at least, and the sound of it eased her heart a little.  Jason said, “No, I made them let me in. I remember what this was like for me. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“How very kind of you,” she said, and he smiled.  The expression vanished when she stepped forward, sword at the ready.  “If you convinced them to let you in, then you can convince them to let me out.”

He looked worried, but met her gaze.  “I can’t. You’re way too dangerous, T.  I mean, you’re absolutely lethal even unarmed, and you’re in no state to recognize friend from foe.  If you get out, you might kill an innocent, or someone you care about. I can’t let you make that mistake.  You wouldn’t forgive yourself.”

All of it sounded sensible, which infuriated her even more.  Talia swung the blade over his head, Jason flinching from it, and slashed open one of the packing crates near where he sat.  Spare metal parts clattered to the floor around him, but he didn’t try to get up, only watching her worriedly as she looked down the length of the blade at him.  She let the sword-tip hover at his throat. “You claim to know me. Surely you know that I will not abide being locked in like this.”

“You have to,” he said, apologetic.  “When you brought me back, you had to turn me loose - your dad would’ve killed us both if he’d caught me.  I _had_ to go it alone.  You don’t. I’m here to protect you - and protect the rest of the world _from_ you.  Stab me if you have to, but you’re gonna be real pissed when you get your memory back.”

Scowling, she pricked his skin with the point of the blade, just enough to make an ordinary man nervous, but he only looked up at her steadily.  And Talia found she could not bring herself to hurt him. Rage boiled in her belly at being denied the only outlet for her fear and pain, yet she could not strike.

She was well and truly trapped.

With a low cry of frustration, Talia drove the sword into another of the crates and let it stick there, vibrating with the strength behind the blow.  And then she collapsed, head bowed, miserable in captivity.


	9. Role Reversal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last of the three related drabbles.
> 
> The next prompt up is "Fake Relationship". Let me tell you, _that's_ gonna be fun.

Seeing Talia this out of sorts was deeply disturbing to Jay.  She was _never_ this unbalanced, always perfectly in control of herself and the situation.  His first, blind instinct was to hug her and tell her it was gonna be okay.

Luckily he had enough self-preservation not to do _that_.  Just because she’d let go of the sword didn’t mean she wasn’t still armed - or that she couldn’t hurt him badly without ever drawing a weapon.  He had to make sure not to startle her. She might not _want_ to hurt him, but she would react with violence to a perceived threat.  So he moved toward her slowly, speaking in the most reassuring voice he could muster.  “Hey, Talia, it’s gonna be all right. You’ll burn through this quick. You’re gonna be fine.”

She looked up at him, her tousled hair veiling her gaze slightly, and there was no trust in her eyes.  “Why should I believe you?”

“You can’t make yourself hurt me, even though you wanna get out,” he said, sitting beside her and holding out his hand.  “There’s gotta be a reason for that, right? When you can remember everything, you’ll remember it’s because you saved me.  Right now, you have to trust the things you can’t remember yet. You know more than you think you do.”

“Then why do I feel as though I’ll die if I stay trapped in here?” she asked, more plaintive than demanding, and Jay felt her tone go through him like a knife.

“Lazarus fever, maybe?” he guessed.  “When I went through the worst of it, I felt like I was dying.  Or no, I felt like I had died and coming back was worse than dying.  Which is basically what happened.”

Her eyes went wide at that.  “Yes. I remember … too many deaths.  And still, coming back was worse than dying.”

“It’s gonna be okay.  You’re not gonna die, and you’re already back,” Jay tried to reassure her.  “You got poisoned, you just have to burn through the antidote. It’s making you remember things that are already over and done with.  Just hang on, Talia, it’ll be over soon.”

She stared at him, obviously wanting to trust what he said, but fear and rage and pain stormed through her, making it hard to concentrate.  At least her eyes weren’t glowing like some kind of horror movie anymore, though Jay thought they looked more green than they had the last time he’d seen her.

He’d kept his hand out, knowing that touching her without her making the first move was a bad idea, and finally she reached out and took it.  Jay closed his fingers around hers gently, trying to remember what he’d wanted when he’d first been resurrected, what would’ve calmed him down.  Her grip was a little too tight, a fearful squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, her voice shaking, and an apology from Talia was almost more shocking than hearing her sound less than perfectly self-assured.

“For what?” Jay said.

“For doing this to you,” she replied, her eyes haunted.  “I don’t know why … if I knew what it was like, why I would have let another suffer this torment, much less someone I cared for…”

“I don’t think you _did_ know,” Jay told her.  “I don’t think you were ever put into the Pit before me.  It was always your father’s thing. He’s like seven centuries old, he uses the Pit to stay alive.  But you’re only in your late twenties somewhere.”

“I’ve died so many times,” she whispered.  “How? And I know … all of them were murder.  So many different kinds of murder, and I remember every death…  Who did this to me?”

Jay scowled, his protective instincts roused.  “I don’t know. You never told me. You don’t share a lot of personal stuff.  But when you do remember … let me know, and we’ll hunt whoever it is down. Nobody deserves that, least of all you.”

She looked at him, finally without fear haunting her eyes, and managed a small smile.  “You are a good friend to me, then.”

“I try to be,” Jay replied, and it came out with more earnest conviction than he meant to voice.  But that, at last, seemed to reassure her. Talia’s shoulders lost their tension, though she still held onto his hand like a drowning woman clutching a life preserver.

All they had to do now was wait for it to be over.  But at least Talia wasn't alone.


	10. Fake Relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out dialogue-heavy, as they started talking about sexual politics.

Three days in the French Riviera sounded almost like a vacation, a delay Jay couldn’t afford.  But his next trainer would meet them there, and Talia had business with this particular expert.  “I prefer that you not eliminate this one, if possible,” she’d told him. “She is very useful.” Jay had made a noncommittal noise; he only killed the ones that needed killing, and made no exceptions.  His goals, and his definition of ‘useful’, didn’t necessarily align with the League of Assassins.

He and Talia met in Italy, preparing to cross the border and lose themselves among the holiday-makers on the Mediterranean coast.  She went with him to pick up their fake IDs for the trip, and Jay glanced at hers out of habit even before he looked over his own. She was using her real first name, but Talia Quinn seemed an odd combination to him.

And then he glanced down at the passport and driver’s license in his own hands, which showed the name Patrick Quinn.  He frowned, following Talia back to the car. “We have the same last name,” he said questioningly.

“Yes,” Talia said.  “France is … not the friendliest country for Muslims, these days.  I thought it best to avoid as much tension as possible.”

“You’re not old enough to be my mom,” Jay pointed out, still confused.  Not as if anyone would look at them and imagine any blood relation, anyway.  She was slim and dark, while he was tall and broad and fair.

Talia laughed.  “You look older than you are, and I look younger than I am.  The apparent age difference shouldn’t cause comment, even if most such marriages are between an older man and a younger woman.”

Jay came to a halt by the passenger, staring.  “Wait, you set us up to pose as a  _ married couple _ ?!  So I can be your, what, token white boy?”

Talia arched a brow at him across the roof of the vehicle.  “I did not think it would cause offense.”

He ran a hand through his hair, starting to sweat.  Part of him - a specific part - wanted to know how much pretending-to-be-married he’d actually get to do.  The rest of him was nervous as hell of overstepping his bounds. “No, I’m not  _ offended _ , I’m just … shocked.  Jesus, Talia, you’re  _ way _ outta my league.”

She smiled.  “I’ll take that as a compliment.  It does not matter, in any case. The sort of marriage we would be pretending relies mostly on the husband’s wealth.”

“I don’t know how to play rich,” he complained.

Talia clicked her tongue at him.  “You spent a number of years living in Wayne Manor and socializing with Gotham’s wealthier citizens.  Surely you know how young men with more money than sense behave. Now get in the car, we have some distance to drive.”

Jay stewed in his discomfort as she drove, and after a few minutes Talia said, “My apologies, Jason.  I should have asked, instead of presuming.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I just…”  There was no way he could explain why it made him uncomfortable to think about pretending to be her husband.  Not least because they both knew who was  _ actually _ qualified for that job description: Bruce Wayne.

Talia didn’t push the issue any further, and crossing the border was very simple.  They drove into Toulon and Talia handed the car over to the valet at the hotel she’d chosen - Jay knew at a glance it was way too ritzy for him.  But then, she loved luxury whenever she could get it, and this area had enough fabulously wealthy tourists to know exactly how to cater that kind of decadence.  There was enough a bellhop to take their luggage, and he hurried off with it as they headed inside to check in.

His disparaging train of thought was thoroughly derailed when Talia linked her arm through his, and turned a charming smile on him.  “Shall we, mon chéri?”

The curve of her breast brushed against his forearm, and Jay’s mouth went dry.   _ You’re being ridiculous, _ he told himself, and managed a smile for her.  “Sure.” Pet names, though, he couldn’t handle that.

Crossing the lobby, he was aware of eyes on them - eyes on  _ her _ , mostly.  Talia was beautiful enough to attract attention anywhere, but now all of those appraising looks were also taking  _ him _ into account.  That might have been part of why she chose this ruse, to keep any unwanted advances at bay.

At least he had enough presence of mind to realize that she expected  _ him _ to check them both in.  The reservation was under her ‘husband’s’ name, and he handed over a platinum card that had come with his ID as he signed the paperwork.  The concierge smiled brightly at them, and Jay escaped to the elevator with a sigh of relief.

Talia told him archly, “Your  _ next _ training is going to be a short course in acting.”

“I don’t need freaking theater class,” Jay grumbled.

Her brows went up.  “The entire point of this disguise was  _ not _ to attract attention, and you might as well have carried a billboard advertising your nervousness.  Few men are nervous of their wives.”

“Yeah, most men aren’t pretending to be married to the deadliest person on the continent, either,” Jay shot back, nettled by her criticism.

“And again, the point of this is to conceal who and what we are,” she replied sharply.  “All you needed to do was be arrogant, and I know you can manage that. Do you know what kind of man is so tense with a woman this attractive on his arm?  Someone who can’t actually afford the whore he just bought.”

There was real venom in that, and Jay stepped back from it.  “Whoa, hey, it’s not like that,” he said. “I guarantee no one looks at  _ you _ and thinks that.  Especially not me.”

Talia gave a bitter chuckle.  “Oh, Jason, I’ll grant you that most men don’t think I’m actually for sale.  At least, not for so simple a transaction as direct payment. But I am very accustomed to being regarded as a commodity, one out of their price range.  Which is, effectively, what you told me in the car, when you said I was out of your league.”

“No, what I  _ meant _ was that by no stretch of the imagination am I good enough for you,” he protested.  “Also men are assholes, especially about women. I  _ am _ a man and I know that.”

She regarded him thoughtfully.  “Your principles do you credit. As for whether you’re ‘good enough’, do you really think so little of yourself?”

“I’m from the Gotham gutter, Talia,” Jay said.  “I’m American, one of the things we get right is that everyone’s created equal, but even so you’re on a whole different level.”

Talia shook her head.  “Because I was born to wealth and privilege, I am somehow better than you?  No. I would say instead that you are more worthy of respect. You have fought for your standing in the world, Jason, and all that you are today is because of yourself.”

“No, it’s because of who I know,” he argued.  “First Bruce, and then you - I’d  _ still _ be hustling for every scrap I could get, or maybe I’d be dead by now, if not for him deciding to take me in.  And I wouldn’t be compos mentis without you.”

“You didn’t need my help to accomplish your goals,” she said softly.  “I merely accelerated your progress. Likewise Bruce did not make you brilliant or talented, he simply leveled the playing field for your abilities to show properly.  You are worthy of every honor, just for yourself.”

Jay frowned.  “It’s just not believable, to me, to pretend to be one of  _ these _ people.  Billionaires don’t worry about the kinds of things I worry about.  I don’t feel like one of them, and I’m not that good at pretending to be the kind of stuffed-shirt rich boy who only sees your looks and doesn’t realize you carry yourself like a top martial artist.”

“I see.  It’s not that you think you’re somehow beneath regard.  You actively disparage wealth and its trappings.” They reached their floor before Jay could respond to that, and Talia headed toward the room.  He followed, clenching his jaw, knowing the next three days were going to be irritating.

Jay had the key, but Talia swept in ahead of him as soon as he unlocked the door.  The first thing he saw was their suitcases, stacked neatly by the dresser - and no bellhop in sight.  Discreet service must be this place’s specialty, no waiting around for a tip. 

Talia  checked the bathroom and then moved through the living area to the bedroom.  That was assassin training, never trust a new space until you’d examined it, and even though she’d just checked it, Jay looked as well.  Better to know the layout if an emergency did happen. He dropped his bag on the table and looked critically at the couch. This was a one-bedroom suite, and the bed was hers.  He’d be sleeping out here, which was fine, he’d slept worse places. The living area had the couch, a television, and a desk table. Jay stretched, figuring he’d order room service soon.

Talia stalked back out of the bedroom and kicked her shoes off.  “Sit down,” she told him, in a tone that brooked no opposition. Scowling, Jay did so, as Talia put her purse down on a side table.  “I cannot do anything for your attitude toward wealth. But I am not so obtuse as to ignore the other issue with our cover.”

“Which is?” Jay asked.

She walked over to him.  “Your discomfort with proximity, which is to be expected.  I don’t encourage familiarity. This, at least, can be dealt with.”  And saying that, Talia took his hand, lifted it up, and sat down beside him.  She leaned into his side and wrapped his arm around her waist, Jay tensing again, his eyes going wide.

Talia leaned her head back on his shoulder, held his arm firmly in place, and said, “Wake me when you’re over it.”

“ _ What? _  Talia, what the  _ hell _ ?”  Jay couldn’t help sounding shocked, but at least his voice didn’t break.

She tipped her head back to meet his gaze.  “If we’re pretending to be married, you cannot continue to be so nervous.  It attracts attention. So, get used to being near me.” A little smile, and she snuggled even closer.  “I promise not to stab you for taking liberties.”

At first he could only splutter.  “I’m not fuckin’ taking liberties, you’re the one who sat down practically in my lap.”

Talia laughed, and he felt her belly move under his forearm with it.  “I did consider actually sitting in your lap. That would be rather uncomfortable for both of us, I think.”

Jay kicked that mental image aside.  He was already entirely too aware of how good it felt to hold her and how her hair smelled faintly of some warm floral scent.  “You’re being cruel,” he muttered.

Sighing, Talia reached for his other arm, wrapping both around her.  “Jason, I’m not going to harm you. Or mock you. I am trying to be matter-of-fact about the situation, which borders on the ludicrous.  I’ve never had a man refuse the opportunity for such familiarity.”

He scoffed.  “Like I said, men are assholes.  At least I try not to be. It’s just  _ weird _ .  And I’m not comfortable with being all handsy with a woman who isn’t interested in me.”

She was quiet for a while, and Jay wondered if she really intended to doze off while he sorted out his ‘issues with proximity’.  Finally, Talia spoke in a low, musing voice. “You are a better man than most I know. Jason … I would not have suggested this particular ruse with someone I couldn’t trust.”

Now, mutual trust he could handle.  Jay knew she was armed, and that Talia was fully capable of killing a man with her bare hands.  He didn’t seriously think she’d stab him if he accidentally copped a feel, anyway. He just didn’t want to do something stupid that would make her look at him all affronted, and think he was a clueless idiot with a crush.  Even if he  _ was _ an idiot, and  _ did _ have a hopeless crush.

Thinking that, he adjusted his arm slightly for both of them to be more comfortable.  Talia shifted, leaning into him more so she could pull her feet up onto the couch, and he was very aware of her curves and the way her dress rode up at the thigh.

Still, there was a weird kind of reassurance in knowing this wasn’t going anywhere.  And she’d started it, she was the one who’d pulled his arms around her. So Jay let out a sigh, finally releasing the nervous tension that had been in him since she’d first said the word ‘married’.

“Much better,” Talia said quietly.

Of course, now that he wasn’t afraid for his life any longer, certain parts of his brain located south of his belt were a little too happy about the situation.  Jay throttled that train of thought. She  _ trusted _ him, and trying to push the limits was a betrayal of that.

He tried for a more technical discussion that would keep his mind off the scent of her perfume.  “So, what’re we doing for three days while we wait for my next trainer?”

“Pretending to be tourists,” Talia murmured, and she  _ did _ sound drowsy.  “The Old Town has many beautiful fountains, I understand.  There are several museums as well. And I have heard good things about their opera house.”

Jay scoffed.  “Okay, I don’t know if I can pretend to enjoy opera.”

She laughed softly.  “You need only pretend to indulge your wife, who  _ loves _ opera.  I assure you, there will be many men in the same situation.”

He couldn’t help the way his throat dried up again when she said ‘your wife’ _. _  It was completely stupid of him, he was letting an idiotic crush rule too much of his mind, and there was no way in this world or any other that Talia would ever be his  _ wife _ .  Hell, Jay doubted he’d ever even end up  _ married _ at all, the happy domestic stuff wasn’t for him.  He was on a course of vengeance that probably ended with another gravestone on a hill somewhere.  But by God, they weren’t gonna mourn him as just a  _ soldier _ this time.  If he had to die again, he’d go out a nightmare and a legend.

And not as the dumb kid who couldn’t stop thinking about Talia’s admittedly stellar legs, or how much of them he was currently seeing.

She might’ve sensed the run of his thoughts, because Talia continued in a musing tone, “Of course, there are also the beaches.  I did not bring a swimsuit, so that would entail a shopping trip as well. I’m sure you can summon the appropriate level of husband-specific boredom for clothes shopping.”

Jay pictured her in a bikini, and swallowed hard against the involuntary noise he almost made at that mental image.  “Yeah, no, I’m too pasty for beaches,” he said, trying desperately to sound casual. “I sunburn way too easily. I’ll give you the opera, I can sleep through that if I have to.”

“You might enjoy it,” she said.

“Who knows,” Jay muttered.

A few minutes passed in silence, and Talia spoke again in thoughtful tones.  “Still uncomfortable, though much improved. Jason … you do realize that I know what I am, and the effect I have, particularly on men?”

“What the hell…?” he began, unnerved by the abrupt change in conversational direction.  “What you  _ are _ is my mentor.  My handler, basically, don’t think I don’t know that.  Also one of the most dangerous and most powerful people alive.”

“You speak as someone who knows me, and you refer to  _ who _ I am,” Talia pointed out.  “To one who does not know more than he can see, I am simply a prize.  To be won, or conquered, the choice of approach matters little.”

“Yeah, we already established that men are assholes,” he muttered.

“No, men are … very visual, and many men are ruled by baser impulses,” Talia replied.  “That makes them very easy for an intelligent and self-aware woman to manipulate. While they are busily chasing after the object of desire they’ve made me in their minds, I am free to study them, find their weaknesses, and lay plans for dealing with them.”

“Yeah, you’re smart and ruthless,” Jay said.  “You have to be. I’m not sure what that has to do with me - I know better.”

“Yes, but every aspect of how I present myself is calculated to cause men to react in specific ways.  I am beautiful, and to white western men, I am also very enticingly  _ exotic _ .”  She spoke the last word as if it were a slur.  “I cannot change that. I could make myself look more plain, but then I would have to deal with being ignored.  So, I will take their fascination and use it to my own ends. I have learned to do that so well, and for so long, that it has become a habit.”

Talia shifted slightly, still leaning back against him, and continued, “You do know me better than that.  But I know that my … field of affect, shall we say, also encompasses  _ you _ .  Thousands of generations of biological imperative prompt men to react to what you see.  And though you control your behavior in accordance with your own principles, you are not entirely immune to me.”

Jay was glad she wasn’t meeting his gaze at the moment.  He was blushing again; though she’d carefully chosen her words, he couldn’t help translating that to the fact that she was sexy as hell, and knew it, and he couldn’t help having an epic crush on her.  “That sounds like my problem, not yours,” he finally said.

She sighed.  “Yes, but given the roles I intended for us to play here, it has now become  _ our _ problem.  It would be simpler to adjust our cover, and accept a certain degree of hostility as a wealthy Arab woman on her own.  I fear, though, that I’ve damaged the trust I hoped you had in me, and solving this issue would also resolve that. Hence why I insisted on making you comfortable with this degree of familiarity.”

Jay thought about that.  “No, I trust you,” he said.  “I just … Talia, it’s  _ my _ problem.”

Another pause.  “I want you to know that I have not used this as a leash to bind you.  I could have; I have done it often enough, to lesser men.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Jay replied, and did  _ not _ think about what her using his crush as a leash would entail.

She chuckled again, wryly.  “It is easy, and nearly certain.  Few men can resist me. But you … Jason, you are more important to me than that.”

“Why?” he asked.  “Because I’m  _ his _ son?  You know I’m gonna kill him, right?”

“I am doing everything in my power to ensure that when you finally confront him, it is a fair battle,” Talia told him sharply.  “I know full well that it may cost  _ both _ your lives.  But I owe you this much, at least.”

“How come  _ you _ owe me?” he asked.  “You never did me any wrong.”

“Oh, I may have wronged you by placing you in the Lazarus Pit,” she replied.  “Having tasted its horrors since, I do not think it was a kindness, though I meant it so.  In any case, you  _ were _ wronged, even if not by me.  And I cannot ignore that while it is in my power to try to right it.”

“It’s a hero thing, then.  Great power, great responsibility, yada yada,” he said, with heavy sarcasm.

“Antiheroic, at best,” Talia replied.  She reached up, curling her hand around the nape of his neck, and Jay stilled.  It suddenly felt much more like an embrace than an exercise in trust. “I care for you.  It is that simple. And whomever I care about, I protect as best I can. I would not have you lose faith in me, over something so simple as this.”

It didn’t feel simple, from where he was sitting, but Jay unthinkingly gave her a gentle squeeze by way of agreement.  “It’ll take a lot more than one awkward cover to make me lose faith in you. Talia … I know what you risked, and what you did, for me.  Don’t think I don’t appreciate it.”

“I’m glad that you do, but it was not done in hopes of reward,” she replied,  And shifted again, finally finding the comfortable position she sought, melded against his side.  

Jay held her, and thought over the whole situation, distracted at last from the reality of her in his arms.  By the time he’d decided that he could actually do this - pretend to be her husband, and be physically close with her without breaking a sweat every time - Talia had actually dozed off.

That spoke volumes about her trust in him, and Jay figured it was all that needed to be said, really.  He let her drowse, just enjoying this moment, which his ridiculous crush couldn’t help singing about in the back of his brain.

Some time later, his stomach growled, and Jay nudged the top of her head with his chin.  “Hey, T? If you’re playing the wife, how about you hook me up with dinner?”

She sat up and rolled her eyes.  “At least you’re joking about it.  As for dinner, which would you prefer: the restaurant, or room service?”

Jay grinned; a sense of humor  _ was _ helpful.  “Whatever you want, honey.”

Talia pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.  “And now you’re not going to  _ stop _ joking about it.  Very well, cope as you like.  We will have room service, though, so no one else has to suffer all of the facetious pet names.”

“You started that,” Jay told her as she stood up.

Talia turned a wicked grin on him.  “Yes, I did, mon chou. And I know more silly endearments in more languages than you do.”

“Okay, point, but I draw the line at cabbage, okay?” Jay replied, and somehow things were right between them again.


	11. Telepathy / Mind Meld

Talia deeply disliked dealing with metahumans.  Some individuals were exemplary, others were reprehensible, but that was true of ordinary humans as well.  What fueled her antipathy were the damned _powers_ , which made assessing risk and neutralizing threats far more difficult.

She and Jay had gone after a gang involved in human trafficking - one of Jay’s particular vendettas, and Talia was happy to support him in it.  Only when they finally found the leader of the group, he turned out to be some kind of telepath. On the upside, he appeared to be strictly a mind reader, not able to control their actions, and whatever he saw in their minds frightened him badly, by the expression on his face.

On the downside, he did have _some_ other power, that washed over them both even as Jason fired his pistol and painted the wall behind the man with brains.  Talia could not feel remorse, only satisfaction, knowing that the children he’d stolen would be cared for now.

And yet … there were strange feelings sloshing around in her mind, and she froze, one hand going to her temple.  Her forearm stung, but she hadn’t been injured - Jay had been grazed with a knife in the same place. And she felt a deep, burning rage, not just at the man they’d killed, but at all men who would exploit children.  It was nothing like her own cold disgust for such predators, this was hotter, more personal.

Talia looked at Jay, caught him frowning, and saw him look back at her.

 _The perfect warrior.  She’s a goddamn goddess._  The thought echoed in her head oddly.  She narrowed her gaze, wondering how badly hurt he was, and Jay said aloud, “It’s nothing serious.”

 _But I didn’t speak…_ she thought, and her eyes widened as he said, “You didn’t?”

“We’re reading each other’s minds,” Talia said, and looked at their foe, lying quite dead.  “What did he _do_ to us?”

There was a very distinct burst of panicked realization from Jay - she was getting better by the moment at separating out his thoughts from hers - and then a sudden ripple of images.  Mostly of herself, seen from his perspective, a dozen unguarded moments, that time she’d kissed his cheek, his consternation when she’d snuggled up to him in Toulon. Through it all was woven a deep regard and admiration that fell on her soul like rain in the desert.  Talia realized in a flash that he was trying to hide things from her, but the moment he thought of them, they were revealed.

She went the other route, closing her eyes and focusing on him.  His strength, his courage, his skill, his unexpected kindnesses. Her trust in him - though that brought up her father and Tuwile telling her she was a fool, that she’d unleashed a plague, that she’d better start thinking with her head and not her heart.  Talia stamped down on that, remembering instead the times she’d told him about her childhood, the times she’d sat on the clifftop in his mindless year and poured her heart out.

“I’m not as good as you think I am,” Jay said hoarsely.

“And I am not as certain as you believe me to be,” Talia told him, still shaken by the warmth of his regard.

He tilted his head, regarding her worriedly.  “God, you’re so _lonely_.  Fuck, T, I can’t be the _only_ one you can trust…”

 _Everyone else has betrayed me,_ she thought, and saw it cross his mind, the times her father had used her, the times he’d killed her.  The ways Bruce had scorned her, both deliberately and unknowingly. The peace she’d felt only with Jason, and even then, it was wary now that he had risen from the Pit with murder in his heart.

Talia couldn’t stop that, though she tried to snatch it back, overlay it with her affection and regard.  Unfortunately Jay saw only the clarity with which she knew him, how encompassing her gaze really was, and how much of his mind she was seeing even now.

Doubt plagued him, she could sense it, and his skin was crawling with horror at the thought of being so open with anyone.  Talia frowned, concerned, and moved toward him. “Do not discredit yourself so,” Talia chided gently, and touched his arm, meaning to soothe him.

Jason gasped - and so did she.  Physical contact _flung_ them into each other’s minds, everything echoing like standing inside a struck bell, and Talia struggled just to tell where she left off and he began.  She _felt_ every well-concealed vulnerability, his and her own, and caught the edge of a thought in the roaring confusion: _it’s like being naked under her gaze_.  

The mortification of that notion unlocked old memories for Talia, cowering in rags beside a Lazarus Pit, Nyssa’s eyes regarding her so coldly, her soul laid bare as she begged for her life, and no mercy answered her, only a knife in the hands of someone who should have loved her.

Jay groaned, and she gave a low cry, now feeling the desperation of lying bound and bleeding while Joker laughed and the crowbar came down, again and again and again, the pain crashing through his body and being utterly helpless, knowing salvation was too far away.

That looped around for Talia, and she felt Jay shudder as her own blackest memories resurfaced.  Bound and gagged, her last paltry hope of rescue crushed by a brute’s bragging voice, and then hands like iron gripping her shoulders…

Talia tore herself away from him, made a fist, and smacked herself in the temple hard enough to see stars.  At least it managed to jar them both loose from those horrifying images. “Jesus Christ, Talia,” Jay whispered, his voice breaking, and she was _still_ in his mind enough to know that his horror was eclipsed by a wild urge to kill whoever had hurt her.  

“No more,” she said, ashamed at the pleading note in her voice.

“How do we _stop_ it?” he asked, still shivering with old pain from both of their histories.

Talia’s stomach protested, and she struggled not to be sick, biting down on her own lip until she tasted blood.  Jay made a protesting noise, and she saw him cover his own mouth. “First of all, we make damned sure not to touch one another again,” she said shakily, and saw him nod.  “Second … is this just _us_ , or can we read others’ minds now?”

“Ah fuck, I do _not_ wanna deal with that,” Jay grumbled.  “At least you’re … you. I don’t wanna see inside everyone’s head.”

“Let’s get back to the car,” Talia said.  “Father should have a telepath on retainer somewhere.”

She quickly learned that if she focused, she could only hear the surface of Jay’s thoughts.  And since he, too, was using the meditation techniques he’d learned from Bruce to be mindful of his thoughts, all she was hearing was his worry over their current predicament.

They needed to get away from the scene of the killing, most of all, and once that was accomplished, Talia took out her phone and placed some calls.  Tuwile, first, who was able to find the number of a low-level telepath with whom they’d done business.

The woman answered the phone warily, and after establishing credentials, Talia said, “Apparently a powerful enough telepath can transfer his abilities to others.  I need to know how long that lasts, and the scope of it.”

“Ohh, no, I’ve only ever heard of that happening once,” the woman said apologetically.  As well she might, she was being paid handsomely for this consultation, and ought to try to be more useful.  “Some idiot was trying to start a cult, and one of his followers killed him. The psychic blast he released when he died linked all of his followers’ minds together.”

“How long did the effect last?” Talia asked.

“It’s hard to tell.  Being mind-linked drove them insane - this was eight people, already vulnerable thanks to being brainwashed, and they couldn’t tell themselves apart anymore.  The police got involved after two of them killed each other, everyone else was hauled off to psychiatric care, but there were two suicides even under constant watch.  One of the remaining four stayed in a facility for the rest of her life. Three got out after extensive evaluations. So the link faded at some point, but it’s hard to tell when.”

Talia made a small sound of annoyance.  “Those affected - they were only able to read one another’s minds, then?  Not everyone they encountered?”

“It wasn’t true telepathy, just a mental link,” the woman clarified.  “If this is the same thing, just keep the affected people apart for a while.  Contact increases the effect.”

“So I’d noticed,” Talia said dryly.

The telepath continued, “Distance helps mitigate it, but that can be disorienting too.  I’d say keep them sedated for a few days, but you want to be very careful with drugs. Anything with a hallucinogenic effect can strengthen the link.”

“I have no intention of sedating myself, in any case,” Talia replied, mostly to see what other information the reaction would reveal.

Her answer was a squeak of surprise.  “It happened to _you_?!  And you’re coherent enough to call for advice?  Oh, you’ll be fine, then. Let me know how long it takes to wear off.  For scientific purposes.”

“I will,” Talia told her.

They wrapped up the call, and Talia turned to look at Jason.  She’d felt his reactions to each new scrap of information, and there was no need to relay to him what he’d heard.

“So we’re stuck with this, for now,” he said aloud.

“If we go our separate ways sooner than planned, it ought to dim,” Talia replied.

 _How can I leave you alone a moment before I have to?_  She heard it in his mind, and curved her lips in a wry smile.  “I have been alone often, Jason. I will survive this, as you will also.”

“Yeah, and we’ll both be happier not hearing every stray thought,” he sighed.

She could tell that it bothered him, having uncovered the deep well of loneliness at the bottom of her soul - the one which Talia rarely acknowledged to herself.  And his worry prodded at her; Jason simply wanted her to be happy.

The problem was, not even Talia knew how to map a route to _that_ goal.

She filled up her mind with every good thing she knew about him, every unlooked-for kindness, every moment of nobility and courage, and then gently took his hand.  Jason laced his fingers through hers, and their minds merged again.

No need for words, not when they were so closely aligned.  He cared about her, more deeply than he would admit, and Talia drank that in like water from a deep, cool well in the middle of a dry summer.  

Only a few moments of that sharing, more intimate than anything she’d ever done before, and Talia drew away with a slight smile.  “I shall drop you off at the airport, then. Until the next time, habibi.”

And even as he gave the expected agreement, she heard him think, _Right back to missing you all over again._


	12. Handcuffed / Bound Together

Jay thought he’d seen Talia angry before.  She’d rarely been more than annoyed with him, personally, but he had seen her administer a scathing dressing-down to an underperforming lackey.  And he’d seen murder in her eyes when she lost her memory. But he hadn’t seen her really  _ furious _ until today.  

His supposed-to-be-next trainer had made the very foolish decision to betray the Demon’s Head.  And so, when Jay and Talia arrived, they’d been met with an ambush. The trainer was an expert in surveillance, and had managed to throw off the League of Assassins’ supervision long enough to lay this trap.  The expression on Talia’s face when she saw all the guns pointed at them had not been fearful, just a level of wrath that even seemed to take the traitor by surprise.

Now Jay found himself sitting on a cold stone floor, both hands behind his back, his wrists cuffed to Talia’s with the chains crossed to keep them tightly in place.  Just standing up would require a coordinated effort, and there was no way they could fight off the three guys left to supervise them.

Jay figured Talia’s anger was mostly because she’d set up this training, and hadn’t seen the betrayal coming.  That, and the indignity of being cuffed and held hostage. The traitor had taken photos and video of the pair of them, then left the room, presumably to contact Ra’s al Ghul.  Jay didn’t think his odds of getting ransom were any good. Ra’s would either send in a bunch of assassins to kill the traitor for the affront, or assume Talia could handle this - and since her training of Jay was  _ not _ sanctioned by him, Jay figured it was the latter.

He tried to focus on the three guards.  There had to be some way out of this, some way to make them lose their focus.

Talia leaned back against him slightly, and he felt her flex her shoulders to give him a little more slack.  She spoke up, in a matter-of-fact tone. “You do realize my father is going to kill you all. Assuming I don’t do so first.”

“No talking,” one of the guards snapped.

Jay saw where she was taking this, and laughed.  “What, you’ve got us trussed like a couple of Thanksgiving turkeys, and you’re still so worried we can’t even talk?”

“Shut up,” another guard growled.

“He doesn’t want  _ you _ talking to  _ us _ , not the other way around,” Talia said, sounding quite reasonable.  And as she did, Jay felt her hands moving slightly. Something brushed his wrist, a slender bit of metal, and he had to bite his lip not to smile.  How the hell the guards had missed a set of lock picks while taking their weapons, Jay didn’t know, but he was glad of it.

The first guard stepped toward them, raising his gun.  “He just needs you alive. A bullet in the leg won’t bring the price down any.”

“Yeah?  How good’s your cut?  Better spend it in a hurry, pal.  You won’t have long to enjoy it.” Jay grinned fiercely, wanting them focused on his face and his words, and not what Talia was doing.

“Just shut up, you heard the man.  Don’t talk to them,” the guard said, and that one sounded nervous.

“Of course not,” Talia said.  “We might speak  _ sense _ to you.  He is betraying his employer, right now.  Why do you think he won’t do the same to you?”

“He knows we’re loyal to him,” the second guard said.  “Now  _ shut up _ .”

“How loyal, though?” Jay asked, to cover the tiny clicking noise the lockpick made.  “I mean, all those pictures, you guys are in the background. He’s not in any of them.  That’s an insurance policy, don’t you get that? He can always say kidnapping us was  _ your _ idea.”

That gave them pause, but the first guard pointed his gun down at Jay’s feet, and pulled the trigger.  Jay winced; the round skipped off the stone and whined past his ear, but worse, the sound of the shot was enormous in this enclosed space.  “ _ No talking! _ ” the guard yelled.

“Well now we can’t fucking hear ourselves,” Jay complained.  “Really, you’re gonna fire a warning shot at  _ stone _ ?  You’re lucky you didn’t hit one of your own guys with the ricochet!”

Jay’s right wrist was cuffed to Talia’s right, and he felt the cuff spring open even as the guard rushed him.  His left hand was still bound, but he could move at last, and did. Pivoting over his left side, he spun and kicked upward, knocking the gun from the man’s hand.

The other two guards were caught … well, off-guard, and Talia rose, Jay following her lead.  He managed a hurried kick to the first guard’s face as the man dove for his gun, then turned to give Talia slack as she lunged toward the other two.

With their left hands cuffed together, Jay had to step backwards when Talia stepped forward.  But since she had two opponents to his one - and his was on the ground groaning - Jay just tried to keep out of her way, looking over his shoulder to see how things were going.

Even with only one hand free, Talia was a superb fighter.  She drove her fist into the first man’s throat, and dealt him a kick that shattered his knee while he gasped for air.  The second one got his gun up, but Talia pivoted around Jay for a flying kick to the man’s solar plexus that knocked him down, even though she hit the end of the cuffs’ chain as she did it.

Jay kept moving, reminded oddly of ballroom dancing, and how everything was more difficult if you weren’t the one leading.  He saw an opening and managed to snatch her first opponent’s gun, even though that kept Talia from following up on the second guy.  It didn’t matter anymore, Jay put down two of the guards in two shots, then spun around and took out the last one before he could get up.

“Nicely done,” Talia said, and pivoted to get the cuffs off their left hands.  It only took a few seconds with lock picks, and Jay rubbed his wrists gratefully.

“Yeah, thank all those Wayne charity balls when I had to waltz,” he chuckled, and picked up a spare magazine even as Talia grabbed another guard’s gun.

“It is a pleasure to work with someone who can accurately anticipate my next move,” she replied, and checked her gun’s magazine.  Finding it full, Talia cocked it and kept the safety off. “Sadly, the fool who lead them must still be dealt with. Allow me, if you would - I prefer to report honestly that I killed the traitor.”

Jay gave a bow, gesturing toward the door.  “Of course. Ladies first.”

And to his delight, she laughed at that.


	13. Forbidden Fruit

Jay knew he shouldn’t want Talia, shouldn’t look at her the way he did, shouldn’t remember the way she’d felt in his arms, shouldn’t dream about that one pretty-sure-she-meant-it-to-be-chaste kiss.  

But he did.  Want her, and all the rest.

When they weren’t around each other, it was okay.  He could keep his emails (mostly) professional, reminding himself that she was his mentor and he was her student.  Nothing more.

Never mind the kindness in her expression when she regarded him.  Never mind the fragmented memory of her voice, singing softly to him during that blank year.  Never mind that she’d trusted him enough to fall asleep in his company. And he knew Talia trusted very few people.

He couldn’t figure out how she could trust Bruce, still.  Or how she managed to reconcile her supposed epic love for the Bat with funding Jay’s mission to end him.

Maybe her sense of justice really was that finely honed, sharp enough to cut the hand that wielded it.  Or maybe she was just as screwed up as both of them.

He could keep the question academic, until they saw each other.  And then, every time, the sight of her hit him anew. In his advanced driving course, he’d been in a sedan that got sideswiped by a truck, learning how to recover from a wreck like that.  The jarring hugeness of that impact came back to him, every time he met up with Talia. Even when he tried to prepare himself for it, telling himself to get the hell over it, she wasn’t his and never would be, and drooling over her was rude as fuck, still … every time, he got swatted right out of his composure by the way she smiled in welcome.

He  _ shouldn’t _ want her.  She was something like seven years older, that was already a red flag, and her relationship with Bruce should’ve made her even more off limits.  And yet, she was just too damn beautiful. Also dangerous, brilliant, deadly, impossibly elegant, and so cosmopolitan as to occasionally make him feel like a child.  Jay had watched her slip easily between worlds, negotiating with Swiss bankers one day, conversing with Cambodian monks the next, and putting in a call to a Peruvian mountain climber in between.  She moved effortlessly between those points of view the same way she spoke their languages, with fluency and grace.

And still, one night when he couldn’t sleep, Jay had padded into the living area of their suite and saw her standing backlit by the window, drinking a glass of pomegranate juice and staring out into the night.  Her hair had been sleep-tousled, she’d been wearing a tank top and loose-fitting pajama pants, and for once in her life Talia hadn’t arranged herself with the intent of being seen. She was more beautiful to him in that artless moment than in all the perfectly-coiffed and expensively-dressed looks he’d ever seen.  No words passed between them that night, just a smile from her as Talia went back to bed, pausing to clasp his shoulder lightly in passing. All while Jay pretended his heart wasn’t pounding.

He shouldn’t want her … but the lure of the forbidden only made him want her  _ more _ .  Which proved to him that he really was an idiot.


	14. In Vino Veritas / Drunk Fic

Talia knew that Jay drank, mostly to silence his demons long enough to let him sleep.  She worried, a little, about his consumption level, but considering that she drank for much the same reasons, she could not disparage him.  

She came to pick him up in Beirut, and when he answered the door, Talia smelled liquor on his breath - and licorice.  She wrinkled her nose slightly. “Jason, have you been drinking arak?”

“Yeah, good stuff,” he told her boozily.  “Want some?”

“One glass, perhaps,” she said, following him into the room and noticing that he walked unsteadily.  Talia wondered how much he’d had, a question that swiftly turned to alarm when he lifted the bottle. It was more than two-thirds gone … and he only had one glass before him, so he’d been drinking it _neat_.  As he searched for a second glass for her, Talia said carefully, “You know, it’s meant to be diluted with water.”

“Oops,” Jay laughed.  “Nobody told me. I had a hard enough time jus’ finding the stuff.  Y’know, for people who aren’t supposed to drink ‘cause of religion, the Lebanese make pretty good liquor.”

Talia took the glass and bottle from him before he could pour her a disastrous amount, and filled the glass halfway with water before adding a small measure of arak.  The liquid turned cloudy white, a process that Jay watched with interest, and Talia told him, “The color is why it’s called ‘the milk of the lion’. And Jason, this is homemade.  It could very well be ninety percent alcohol.”

“Good,” Jay said, and shoved his glass toward her.  She insisted on diluting it, but in his current mood he barely cared.  He clinked his glass against hers, then raised it. “To lion’s milk. Never thought it’d taste like licorice.”

Talia saluted him, and sipped hers, wishing for ice.  Jay downed his drink in two swallows. She gave him a slight smile, and told him, “You’re going to feel dreadful in the morning.”

“Eh, I’ll deal with it then,” he said, and dropped into the nearest chair.  Talia perched on its arm, setting down the bottle out of his line of sight, hoping he’d forget it was there.  He was already much too drunk. “Wha’s another hungover … I mean, hangover?”

“You’ve never had an arak hangover,” Talia warned.  “I used to think that, since liquor is haram, we Muslims made sure our liquor was potent enough that it would _force_ drinkers to repent the next day.”

“Those guys in Kazakhstan, they’re Muslim an’ they drink,” Jay pointed out.  “Vodka, too, and more of it than the Russian tank guys. Good guys.”

“The Kazakhs are more Sufi than Shia, and quite far ideologically and physically from Mecca,” Talia told him.  “Like any religion, the further you are from the epicenter of the faith, the more varied its practice. I do believe you’d find the Catholicism of Rome rather more strict than the Church in Gotham.”

He scowled at that, and Talia hoped he wasn’t going to be a quarrelsome drunk.  His next words seemed to imply that he was, at least, a philosophical one. “It’s all bullshit.  Christian, Muslim, Hindu, all of it’s jus’ people tryin’ to explain wha’ they don’t unnerstand. An’ then usin’ it to talk shit about each other.  Who’s goin’ to hell, who they can hate for not bein’ like them.”

“Faith is meant to inspire, to give hope,” Talia told him gently.  “Human nature is essentially tribal, unfortunately, and twists that message.  The heart of any religion is still an attempt to explain the unexplainable, and give reassurance to those who doubt.”

He shook his head, tried to drink from the empty glass, and frowned at it.  “’ve been dead. There’s jus’ nothing, after. I ‘member … getting hit. Bleeding.  Hurting. Then … waking up. Inna coffin.”

Talia ran a soothing hand through his hair, not wanting him to think about his miraculous and horrifying resurrection now, when liquor had torn down the walls he’d built against the nightmares in his memory.  “Perhaps there’s something more than this, but we can’t remember it once we’re back,” she murmured. “Maybe that’s why coming back hurts so much. Some part of us remembers something better.”

“I hope not,” Jay said flatly.  He was still slurring his words, but trying to focus.  “One, ‘cause that means I got kicked outta heaven. An’ two, if there’s a heaven, then there’s probably a hell, and I’ve got too mush … too _much_ blood on m’ hands.”

“You never killed an innocent,” Talia reminded him.  “You’ve only ever killed evil men. Surely there’s forgiveness for that.”

“Yeah, Catholics can forgive anythin’,” he said, his tone cynical.  “Still, lotta killing. Lotta bad stuff. Plus I got kicked out in the first place.  Better if this’s the only life there is, and we’re the ones who make it heaven or hell.  Rather be my own man, than answer t’ anyone, even God.” Jay yawned at that, the liquor finally taking hold..

“You should drink some water, before you go to sleep,” Talia  said, sidestepping the discussion before he got entirely fatalistic.  “It will lessen the effects somewhat.”

“Don’ wanna lessen it,” he muttered.  “Finally feel okay.”

“You’ll regret it in the morning,” Talia warned, sipping from her own glass.

“You can say you tol’ me so,” Jay said, companionably.  She was still petting his hair with her free hand, and he sighed, leaning against her hip.

Talia looked down at him with a little amusement; Jay was more comfortable in her presence, but he still tended not to initiate contact.  She was always the one who took his hand, or touched his shoulder, or ran her fingers through his hair as she was doing now. He rarely presumed upon her, so for him to lean familiarly against her side must have meant he was _very_ drunk indeed.

“Y’know somethin’?” Jay said slowly, looking up at her.  The icy blue of his eyes seemed to have grown warmer and softer under the influence of liquor.

“I know a great many things,” Talia told him.  “Including the fact that you are going to be miserable tomorrow.”

“Is fine, you’ll be here.  You make things better.” He yawned then, and returned to looking at her as if the answers to all the world’s questions were written in her gaze.  “Talia … you’re the mos’ beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you, darling,” she told him, a fond smile curving her lips.  She was used to drunken declarations of affection from men, but few were so charming as this.

“‘m probably an idiot, but I think ‘m fallin’ in love w’ you,” Jay said sleepily.

That … wasn’t just the liquor, Talia knew.  She’d seen enough of his mind to have known his adolescent crush was becoming something more lasting.  And she couldn’t help feeling ambivalent about it.

On the one hand, he had been right about her - she was profoundly lonely.  To be seen and known for _herself_ , not as her father’s daughter, and to be loved despite her flaws was something Talia had dreamed of all her life.  And had known, almost as long, that it was only a dream, forever unattainable.

On the other, Jay was the _last_ person she should have entertained any thoughts of pursuing.  Talia had promised herself, when she first noticed his crush, that she wouldn’t use it against him.  She would never toy with him, no matter how gratifying the light of his regard might be, because he was simply too important to her to play such games with his heart.  And there were a myriad of other reasons why even acknowledging his feelings was a bad idea. Bruce figured high on that list.

And still … he was not someone she’d been destined to love, not a suitor chosen by her father, not blinded by her beauty or intimidated by her lethal skills.  Of all the world, Jason was perhaps the only one who _knew_ Talia as well as he did.  It frightened her a little, to be so exposed, but it also reassured her, in that he still clearly thought so highly of her.

He was also drunk enough just now that he might not even remember this conversation later.  If he did, it would likely be with acute embarrassment. So Talia only smiled, and murmured, “I am deeply flattered.”

That wasn’t quite the response he was looking for, but it made him smile, and she stroked his hair softly until he drifted off to sleep.  

Only once Jason was snoring did Talia murmur, just to hear the words aloud, “I love you, too.”  And even so, the weight of them in the still air spooked her into getting up and polishing off the last of the arak.


	15. Epistolary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of emails sent shortly after the previous chapter.

From: crimealleykid@hotmail.com

To: tag@perseus.net

Status: SENT

Subject: Update

 

T, 

 

New trainer’s a jerk, jsyk.  She’s commented on my accent twice in one day.  

BTW, if you ever bump into someone who can time travel, please go back to the day before yesterday and tell me not to drink arak.  What the hell is IN that? My head feels like Joker’s in there trying to bash his way OUT. Ugh.

 

See you,

J

 

P.S. I was really drunk off my ass last night.  I mean REALLY drunk. Don’t pay any attention to anything I said, okay?

  
  


From: tag@perseus.net 

To: crimealleykid@hotmail.com

Status: SENT

Subject: Re: Update

 

J, 

 

Your command of languages is exemplary, but you do have a discernible accent.  Whether you decide to work to eliminate that is up to you. 

I have a lead on a top-notch distance target specialist for you.  He should improve your competitive advantage. We employ this one, so please bear that in mind.

I did try to warn you about the arak.

As for anything you said, I seem to recall we discussed religion.  I prefer a philosophical drunk to an angry one. No need to worry, you gave no offense.

 

Yours,

T

  
  


From: crimealleykid@hotmail.com

To: tag@perseus.net

Status: SENT

Subject: Re: Update

 

T, 

 

As long as the guy’s not planning to do something crazy, I’m good.  If he is - you can find another guy, I’m sure.

Good.  I was worried I was spouting some off the wall stuff.  Last thing I’d wanna do is offend you. You’re so good to me and all.

 

Thanks,

J

  
  


From: tag@perseus.net 

To: crimealleykid@hotmail.com

Status: SENT

Subject: Re: Update

 

J, 

 

I could wish you were less cavalier about such things.  Alas, I have learned my lesson on trying to change a man’s principles.

You are very welcome.  And you could not offend me so easily.  

 

Yours,

T


	16. Extortion/Blackmail

Talia had Jason on her mind a great deal, these days.  She found herself almost irresistibly drawn to him, picturing the look in his eyes when he’d said he loved her.

If she were honest with herself, Talia needed that.  Bruce loved her, but he could not accept her as she was, couldn’t trust her - and she couldn’t quite trust him, either.  He might want her at his side, but only if she could follow his code - and neither of them believed Talia could do that. If she was threatened, she would respond with violence, including lethal means, to defend herself.  

It was very different with Jay.  He didn’t have an old promise driving him, he could make decisions without worrying about crossing a line of judgment.  And he saw her with awe, not trepidation. Jay was not a mad-dog killer, but he didn’t shrink from putting a final end to evil men.

She’d told herself she wouldn’t play into his crush.  It would be too easy to use him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.  Jay would be deeply hurt if he felt himself betrayed. And yet Talia found herself thoroughly enjoying his regard, tempted to encourage him just to bask in the affection he so freely offered.

Evidently her preoccupation showed more than she thought.  She was scrolling through her messages, preparing to meet Jason and travel with him to his next tutor, when her escort cleared his throat.

Talia looked up, arching a brow.  Tuwile was acting as her proxy elsewhere, and she was traveling with another of the men loyal to her.  “Yes, Lukas?”

“You have invested significantly in this boy,” he commented.

“Yes,” she replied, and said nothing further.  It was none of his business.

Lukas shifted uncomfortably.  “He means a great deal to you.”

He was clearly leading up to something.  So Talia just stared at him.

“I have a brother,” Lukas said.  “He has a wife, and three children - two sons and a daughter.  There’s fighting in my country, right now, and it’s dangerous for them.”

“That must weigh on your mind,” Talia said levelly.

“It does.  So, I had an idea.  If you get my family to safety, I won’t tell your father about your little project.”  Having made his demand, Lukas tensed, expecting her to argue.

Talia had more patience and guile than that.  “You swore fealty to me, Lukas. Blackmailing the Demon’s Daughter is extremely unwise.”

“Blackmail is effective,” he countered.  “Ra’s al Ghul might not care about the money you’ve spent, but he  _ will _ care that you’re sleeping with the Gotham boy.  Don’t bother trying to deny it, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Looking down, Talia sighed.  There was no point in correcting him, he would only assume it was true - and she was shamed enough by it to lie.  She would not demean Jason that way, even in his absence. “Where are they, Lukas?”

“As if I’d tell you that,” he scoffed.  “We’ll go together to pick them up. You can make the arrangements ahead of time.”

“If you insist,” Talia said.  And looked squarely at him. “You could have just asked me, you know.  I would have helped them for the children’s sake. All of this was entirely unnecessary.”

He gave a scoffing laugh, readying a dismissive reply, and Talia lunged.  

She had long since learned that the answer to blackmail was to silence the fool trying to extort her.  Permanently.


	17. Hurt Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a delight to write, so I'm posting it early. Have pity on poor Jay.
> 
> The next prompt in the list is First Time / Last Time. Now, I've written one treatment of their first time together - you can find it on this profile, titled Crossing the Line. 
> 
> I didn't want to rewrite that scene, so I wrote about the second time they end up in bed - which is the first time it's about _them_ more than the person they're both screwing over. You can read Crossing the Line as being in-continuity for this fic.

Jay knew Talia well enough to know that something was off, the moment he saw her.  She held herself stiffly, not moving with her usual grace and confidence, and it worried Jay enough that he actually offered her his arm.

To his surprise, she took it, and leaned on him as they took their leave of his last trainer.  Jay escorted her out to the car, asking, “Can I drive?” to give her an excuse to hand over the keys without showing weakness.  He knew Talia would never let a stranger see her vulnerable.

She graciously agreed, told him to put his bag in the back seat with her own, and sat down in the passenger seat without any trace of pain in her features.  Only once they were away did her hand steal to her side, and she let herself grimace.

“How bad is it?” Jay asked.

“Not as bad as it could be,” Talia said, sounding a little breathless.  She named the hotel, and continued, “It’s near the airport, and we’re flying out in two days.  If you don’t mind, get us there, check us in, and help me with this?”

“Sure,” Jay said, looking at her worriedly.  “What happened?”

“One of my father’s men thought to betray me,” Talia replied.  “He learned the error of his ways, but desperate men are dangerous.  You know how to apply sutures, yes?”

“If you need stitches, shouldn’t we head for a hospital?” Jay said, worried.

Talia chuckled, cutting off abruptly as it pained her.  “I’d rather not leave records. There’s a first aid kit in the trunk you can use, under his body.”

Jay paused, looking over at her.  “Wait, the guy who tried to betray you is dead in the trunk of this car that I’m driving right now?  How long’s he been in there?”

“You wanted to drive,” Talia pointed out.  “It’s only been a few hours. He apparently intended to add a side trip of his own to your next training destination.”

“What did he want?” Jay asked, mostly to keep her talking.  Talia looked a little pale, and he was beginning to wonder how much blood she’d lost.

“There’s unrest in the Balkans, as usual,” she replied.  “He has family there, and wanted them out. If he had _asked_ , I would have gotten them to safety.  Apparently there are children involved.  I have men tracking them down so they can be extracted before the fighting gets any worse.”

“So you’re gonna do what he was blackmailing you for anyway.  After you killed him,” Jay said, shaking his head.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Talia told him.

“What was he trying to blackmail you with, anyway?” he asked.

A long pause, and he looked over at her.  Talia’s eyes were closed; if it had only been a few hours since the fight, the adrenaline was wearing off, and she was feeling her injuries more with each passing moment.

She felt his gaze, and looked at him.  “You,” Talia said, her voice low. “He was trying to blackmail me with you.  And a man who will try such a thing once will do it again, and again. Better to curb that now, permanently.”

That sent a chill down Jay’s back, the reminder that Ra’s al Ghul did _not_ approve of this little training course, and Talia was risking much to help him.

He got to the hotel and parked out front to check them in.  “What’re we doing about the guy in the trunk?” he asked, before getting out.

“Leave him, for now, and just park in the back once we’re checked in.  It’s cool enough he won’t begin to smell until tomorrow. I have someone coming to pick up the car and dispose of him later tonight.  We’ll have to take a shuttle to the airport.” With that, Talia reached into her bag, obviously wincing as she stretched, and handed him two passports and associated credit cards.

Jay took them and looked at her.  “Wait here. I’ll tell them you sprained your ankle or something.  They shouldn’t cause a problem.”

He hurried in to reserve the room, giving his best chagrined smile to the front desk clerk, and when the woman glanced at the car, Talia raised her hand in a forlorn wave.  The clerk made the transaction swift, and gave him a room near the elevator.

Soon enough he was parking the car in the back of the lot, backed in so the contents of the trunk wouldn’t show to any of the exterior cameras.  He retrieved the first aid kit, not sparing a thought for the dead guy, then grabbed Talia’s bag and his own from the back seat, slinging them over his shoulders.  He opened Talia’s door and offered her a hand out, trying not to blush when she murmured, “Such a gentleman.”

There was no time for foolishness, though, because she winced again as she stood up, her hand going to her side.  Talia cursed softly under her breath, and seemed unable to stand up fully. “It’s worse than you thought,” Jay murmured, hovering nearby to catch her if she stumbled.

Grimacing, she admitted, “The blade of his knife broke.  I think part of it may still be in the wound.”

“Jesus … okay, that’s enough being a hardass for one day,” Jay grumbled.  “C’mere, they already think you have a sprained ankle. I’m carrying you in before you rip something loose and bleed to death.”

“It’s not _that_ severe,” Talia protested, but she placed her arm around his neck and let him lift her, only giving a small hiss of pain as he cradled her in his arms.

The clerk saw him coming and held the door with a smile for what surely looked like a charming romantic scene, and Jay tried not to blush again.  He was keenly aware that this was called a ‘bridal carry’ for a reason, and he _was_ walking across a hotel threshold with Talia in his arms.  Only because she still had part of a goddamn knife jammed in her side, but still.

Once they were inside with the door barred behind them, he glanced at the room.  Two queen beds, and he carried Talia toward the closest one, setting her down gently.  He still heard her draw in a pained breath. “There’s morphine in the first aid kit,” she said quietly.  “I’ll have that, first, for the pain. You’re going to need towels, too. I dressed the wounds superficially, but I’m sure they will bleed again with a proper cleaning.”

“I’m on it,” Jay said, trying to sound reassuring.  She nodded, and set about getting her shoes off and putting her weapons aside.  He opened up the first aid kit, found the pills for her, and laid out all the supplies he’d need.  There were no gloves, though, so he went to thoroughly wash his hands as well as grab the towels.

When he came out, Talia had taken her blouse off, and he had to bite his tongue not to make a startled noise.  The black lace-trimmed bra was _definitely_ branded in his memory at first sight, but he made himself focus on the large white bandage at her side.  There were other, smaller cuts on her forearms, typical of a knife fight, but none of them warranted more than a band-aid.  The bandage high up at her ribs covered a more serious wound. “Damn, how bad did he get you?” he asked, hurrying to her side.

“Worse than I thought, evidently,” Talia replied, and laid back on the towel he spread out for her.  “The morphine will kick in soon, you may as well begin.”

Jay found himself worried enough that focusing on her injury was easier than he’d expected, even with her chest rising with each breath.  He carefully removed the first dressing until he got down to the skin, and winced at the sight of the long slash across her ribs. It ended in a deep puncture, and he touched her side carefully.  “Damn, Talia, you’re lucky this isn’t in a lung.”

She coughed, experimentally, and they could both hear that it sounded normal.  “I was more worried about internal bleeding, but I would have noticed symptoms by now.  The blade is still in there, though. I can feel it. You’ll have to go after it. I can’t reach, where it is.”

It would be an awkward angle for her if she tried to treat this solo, and besides, Jay wasn’t gonna just sit around when he could be helping her.  “You sure the morphine’s kicked in?”

Talia gritted her teeth.  “Just do it.”

He shook his head, picked up the forceps, and spent the longest and most agonizing minutes of his new life probing the wound until he felt the metal.  Talia didn’t make a sound, just gripped the sheets until her knuckles turned white.

Jay finally managed to get a grip on it and pull it out, followed by a gout of fresh blood.  Then he just had to clean the whole thing with sterile saline, apply pressure ‘til the bleeding stopped again, and suture it closed.  By then Talia was breathing normally again, if a little shaky. “You okay?” Jay asked, opening the suture pack.

“Fine,” she said shortly, making it obvious that she wasn’t.

Jay sewed it closed, then sat back, breathing out a sigh of relief.  “At least that’s over,” he remarked, reaching for a roll of gauze to bandage it.

“There’s another cut on my leg,” Talia told him.

He didn’t swear loudly and comprehensively, although his nerves jangled with worry.  “How the hell did he manage to cut you up this bad?”

“His reach was greater than mine,” Talia said, stretching so he could tape the gauze in place securely.  “It is not so deep, but I was in something of a hurry when I dressed it.”

“I can’t believe you bandaged all this up, changed clothes, shoved him into the trunk, and came to get me, all when you were this wounded,” Jay said, caught between admiration and dismay.

“I did not want to worry you by being late,” Talia replied.  She started to sit up, then winced again.

“Well, I’m worrying enough now,” he tried to joke.  “Stay still, let me help you. Where’s the other cut?”

Her expression was chagrined, and she placed her hand on the outside of her thigh.  “Here. I’d rather you not cut these slacks to get to it; I already lost the one pair.”

Which meant she was going to be pretty much undressed down to her lingerie, and Jay could feel his ears burning at the thought.  Even worse, it had to hurt her to bend, so… “Yeah, of course, lemme help you,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Talia nodded, clearly aware of how awkward this was for him.  She unbuttoned her slacks, and Jay took hold of the waistband to pull them down enough to treat the wound.

He was _treating a fucking_ **_stab_ ** _wound_.  That was what he had to keep in mind.  Not the fact that the panties matched the bra, or the way Talia arched her hips up to help him get her pants off.  Holy God, if he could’ve had this view and that motion of her body under his hands in any other circumstance…

Jay swallowed, looking at the bandage on her thigh.  And _only_ at the bandage.  “Okay, lemme work on this,” he muttered, and set about removing it.  The cut beneath was shallower, but long enough that stitches were probably the best option.

Talia lay still until he finished and re-dressed that injury.  She’d been so quiet that he looked up at her, worried all over again.  “Are you okay?”

She smiled at him, her expression warm and soft, welcoming enough to make him acutely aware that he was sitting beside the woman he wanted so much it made his chest ache, she was next to naked, and his hand was still resting on her bare thigh, silky skin and taut muscle warm under his touch.  Jay blushed _again_ , pulling his hand back.

“I do believe the morphine is finally working,” Talia said in a low, husky voice.

“Good,” Jay said, and swallowed all the other extremely inappropriate things he wanted to say.  She was definitely a little stoned, to be looking at him like that. “I’ll, um, I’ll let you get some rest.”

He started to rise, and Talia caught his hand.  She waited until he looked at her, then drew his hand up to her face and kissed his knuckles.  That sent shivers all down his spine, and Talia murmured, “You’re very good to me, Jay. I do appreciate it.  Thank you.”

A dozen replies flitted through his mind, from _You’re good to me, too_ all the way to _Gimme a chance and I’ll show you just how good I can be_.  But in the end, he just smiled, pulled the blankets up over her, and said, “You’re welcome.”

Then went to take a very cold shower.


	18. Hurt Comfort II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The muses decided they had a little more to say on the Hurt Comfort prompt - particularly the comfort side of it.

Jay had taken his pajama pants into the bathroom, and changed there, getting himself a little more under control.  They’d only gotten blood on one towel, and he left it soaking in the sink.

Talia was sitting up with her shirt back on when he came out, and gave him a slight smile.  “I’d like to freshen up as best I can around these bandages. Help me up, if you would?”

Aw, hell, that didn’t sound good.  If she needed his help  _ bathing _ , Jay might just have a massive coronary.  “Are you gonna be okay?” he asked, going to her.

“Yes, it’s just standing up that hurts,” she explained, and Jay offered her his hands.  Talia clasped his forearms, and Jay lifted as she stood, helping steady her as she gave another little hiss of pain.

She managed a tremulous smile, and patted his shoulder, moving carefully toward the bathroom.  When Talia stopped by her bag, he picked it up and carried it into the bathroom unasked, then left her to it.

Jay went and flopped on the other bed with a sigh.  He listened to make sure she was okay, and in a little while, Talia came back out.  She’d changed into sleepwear, a long shirt and pants, and stood uncertainly looking at him.

Sitting up, Jay asked, “You all right?”

Talia hesitated.  “Jason … would you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” he said immediately.

“I … it’s the morphine,” she finally admitted, and came over to him.  The drugs were working, she moved a lot less stiffly despite the injuries, and he was glad to see her less pained.  

“What about it?” Jay asked.

Talia looked at him for a long moment, her expression troubled.  “Sometimes I have nightmares. Morphine makes them worse. Would you … may I sit with you?”

For a moment he could only blink.   _ Talia _ had nightmares?  He’d never imagined she suffered from anything like that … but Jay had seen into her mind, once.  There were dark things lurking in her memory, and not just the Lazarus Pit. No, nightmares shouldn’t surprise him.

He scooted over to make room, and Talia sat down carefully, leaning up against the pillows.  She gave him a grateful smile, and whispered thanks.

She still looked uncomfortable, so Jay hopped up and grabbed the pillows off the other bed for her. Between the two of them, they got her settled, and Talia sighed, relaxing a little.  Jay asked, “You want me to stay here until you fall asleep? Or just sit up with you until the drugs wear off?”

“Honestly?  I…” Talia bit her lip, and swore under her breath in Arabic.  “This should not be so damned difficult to say. But I know I am asking a lot of you.”

“Not really,” Jay told her.  “C’mon, T, anything you need, I’m here for.”

She went quiet, and Jay knew the drugs were definitely messing with her, because he thought he saw her eyes welling up.  Finally Talia drew in a breath. “Then … would you hold me? I … I know I’m safe, with you.”

His heart skipped a beat, and Jay told it - along with everything south of the belt - to shut the hell up.  Morphine could make you hallucinate, and she was hurt. If Talia needed his arms around her to feel safe, that was all it was.  “Sure,” he said, and couldn’t help the husky note in his voice.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and leaned into him gratefully.

They got themselves comfortable again, Jay careful of her injured side, and to his surprise it wasn’t as much a temptation as his hormones would’ve led him to think.  Talia  _ was _ warm and soft in his embrace, her breathing slowing as the tension left her.  But he found himself feeling more protective than anything else. 

To keep his mind firmly on that track, Jay asked, “So how did this guy manage to cut you twice?  He’s not  _ that _ good, is he?”

“He was very well-trained,” Talia admitted.  “Mostly, though, I had lost the element of surprise.  I tried to mislead him, but he expected me to turn on him and had drawn his gun as we spoke.  I knocked it from his hands, but once engaged, I had to keep pressing the attack. If I’d let up, he would’ve gone for the gun.  Honestly, he was dead from my first strike, but gut wounds kill just a little too slowly.”

“Good riddance.  He was stupid to try blackmailing you.”  Jay fell quiet for a while, but he could tell Talia was still awake.  “Is you dad really  _ that _ pissed, that this idiot could try to use my training as leverage?”

“I suspect Father knows I’m supporting you,” Talia murmured.  “He is waiting to reveal that knowledge in his own time, when he can best use it against me.  As I am waiting to reveal some things I’m not supposed to know about his dealings. It is an endless game of chess, Jason.  I no longer want to win, only to maintain some degree of freedom.”

That sounded pretty bleak, and Jay unconsciously hugged her.  “Maybe I’m not the only one around whose dad needs a pound of C4 wired up under his chair.”

She gave a quiet sigh.  “This is difficult for you to understand, I know, but I do love my father.  Very much. Despite everything we have done to one another, I cannot forget that he loves me as well.  He is a hard man, and raised me to thrive, to excel, in a hard life. But he is still my father.”

Her voice had been growing softer, her accent stronger, as the morphine worked.  Jay thought she’d fall asleep soon. “So you didn’t have to fight him at all,” he mused.  “Not only were you gonna help his family anyway, he didn’t really have any blackmail material on you.”

Talia chuckled sleepily.  “Hmm. No, he did not, but Lukas believed otherwise.  He threatened to tell my father that you and I were sleeping together.  That … would not end well.”

And that ended any chance of Jay getting any sleep tonight.  The hair on the back of his neck stood up in shock and alarm.  “He  _ what _ ?!”

Talia yawned.  “Pay it no mind.  My father does not approve of any liaison outside the ones  _ he _ chose for me.  I am not his to command, in that respect.  I will find companionship where  _ I _ choose, and he can rage all he likes.  My heart is my own.”

That … really sounded like she was saying he actually had a chance.  Jay lay in the dark, thinking furiously, aware that Talia was dozing off.

She stirred a little, and he realized he’d been holding her a bit too tightly.  Jay loosened up, and Talia shifted, then caught his hand and snuggled back down into the pillows.  

He could tell she was on the verge of sleep when she murmured, “Jay?”

“Yeah?” he whispered back.

“Thank you.  For helping patch me up.  And for this.” Talia squeezed his hand.  “I promised you a long time ago, you’d always be safe with me.  Now you’re the one keeping me safe.”

“Somebody has to,” Jay replied.

His only answer was a wordless murmur.  Talia had fallen asleep, with a slight smile curving her lips.  And all through that night, despite her fears, no nightmares stalked her.


	19. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This got more detailed than expected. I'm going to have to up the rating of the whole fic now.

The first time between them was really about Bruce, for both of them.  An act of willful defiance, Talia and Jay both declaring their independence from their fathers’ schemes and ideologies.  It had felt like sealing a pact, that after years of stalling and delaying, Talia set Jay loose to wreak havoc on Gotham City … and he, in his turn, decided to bring about a different ending for his story than just assassinating the man who’d failed to avenge him.  The night they spent together was complicated, just like the rest of their lives, but far from evil - a sort of rebellious joy ran through them both, the thrill of doing what others would call wrong, and yet which felt so very right at the time.

The _real_ first time, as Talia counted it, came after that, as Jay finalized his plans to go to Gotham.  She met him, leaning against a battered dresser in a rented room as he packed his few belongings - mostly clothes and weapons.  Jay talked a little of his plans, the difficulties of getting back into the city unnoticed, but she caught herself watching his face, the hardened set of his features as he steeled himself to do something difficult, heartbreaking, possibly fatal and final.  

She wanted to see him smile, she thought wistfully, as over the years of his training she had often coaxed a smile from him.  Sometimes it had been embarrassed, or rueful, but mostly it had been amusement or enjoyment.

Jay noticed her pensive silence, and stopped packing to look at her.  “T? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she told him, with a little smile of her own that meant she would miss him, and worry for him.

He crossed the small room to her, reached for her shoulder, then stopped himself.  “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

Talia knew his reluctance for the care that it was; though he remembered their first night together as well as she did, he was not the sort of man to presume that because he’d been allowed to touch her once, he could handle her freely now.  So she stepped into him, sliding her arm around his waist, letting him enfold her in his arms. And then reached to cup his cheek, and kiss him, slow and soft and thoughtful.

“I will miss you, while you’re away,” Talia murmured against his mouth, feeling Jay take a shuddering breath.  She kissed him again, closing her eyes, not trying to awaken a blaze of passion as she had with their first kiss.  Just savoring this, tender and yearning.

Jay buried his hand in her hair and deepened the kiss until Talia felt light-headed with desire.  “Goddamn, Talia, if _anything_ could convince me to walk away from him and Joker and Gotham, a kiss like that…”

“I would never ask that of you,” she told him fervently, and kissed him again, harder, catching his lip between her teeth.  He gasped, and pulled her close, and Talia reveled in being so wanted.

She had to lead - he was still careful of her, and so she was the one who tugged him toward the bed. She caught his hands and brought them up to her breasts, arching into his touch and kissing him again.  Jason took over, impatiently tugging at his own clothes, and Talia forewent any pretense of sensual disrobing to give him swifter access to her skin. His eagerness fanned her desire hotter as he sought to claim every inch of her with hungry kisses and wanton caresses.  Talia goaded him to greater ardor, breathing his name with a catch in her voice, arching against him greedily.

Jay picked her up and set her on the bed, leaning in to kiss her all the way down to the pillows.  She bit her lip not to chuckle in sheer delight; he was still young enough, and this between them still new enough, that he might take insult at laughter.  So Talia only raked her nails down his back tauntingly, and whispered, “Come on, Jason, I need you.”

“Oh my fucking _God,_ ” he groaned, and bent his head to her breasts.  Talia sighed, and gloried in his desire, and let herself moan as his teeth grazed her skin.

She knew the pleasure in her voice drove him wild, and if she let him set the pace now, it would be over too soon.  She wanted every dance between them to last - Talia was all too aware that they might not have many chances at this.  Best to make each one memorable. So when Jay drew back to get a condom, she watched every move of his handsome form with unhidden desire.  And then welcomed him between her thighs, not even trying to stifle her wanton gasp.

She took him deep, and while he shivered with sensation, Talia curled her leg around his hip and rolled him under.  Jay blinked up at her, and laughed at her easy mastery, as Talia grinned wickedly.  “This time is mine,” she murmured, sitting up astride him and bracing her hands on his chest.

“Ladies first,” Jay agreed, his hands going to her breasts.  He was a quick study, learning exactly what she liked, and Talia let herself get lost in the rhythm she set.  With another partner, she might have tried for more self-control, more elegance. Only with Jason did she abandon herself to pleasure.  It was a romp, all delightful exploration, and all the sweeter for being solely about _them_ this time.

His strength and his reverent touch set her heart racing, even as she swivelled her hips to make him moan her name.  Jay watched her face raptly, her lidded gaze heavy with sensual delight, and all the things they hadn’t said to one another crackled between them in that look.  His hands roamed her body, framing her as she rode him, until he slipped one hand down her belly. Jay smiled, that roguish grin that made her bite her lip, and his deft fingers found the center of her pleasure, giving her just the little bit more she needed.

Talia tipped her head back on a throaty cry, and heard him curse, his voice shaken by need.  Jay arched up into her, meeting the bucking of her hips with quick thrusts, and it was just too good.  She forgot about making it last, driving them both to fulfillment, calling his name as she reached the peak.  Jay echoed her with a hoarse groan, seizing her hips bruising-tight as he came. In the moment, even that roughness was sweet, and she collapsed beside him with fulfillment singing through her.

Talia snuggled close against his side, her panting breath hot on his shoulder.  Jay took a few minutes to get his breath back, kissing her lazily. Eventually he sat up a little and grabbed his cigarettes, offering her one, which Talia declined.  

Talia knew he was young enough that a second round would follow, and she simply basked in his regard and the welcome ache everywhere he’d touched her.  Jay trailed his fingers up and down her spine thoughtfully, and Talia sighed at the petting.

“So is this supposed to, I dunno, give me a reason to come back alive?” he asked after a moment.  The question was spoken playfully, but like most of his humor it had teeth behind it. Somewhere deep inside he still suspected her of having _plans_.  Little did he guess how much of his training had been her keeping just one step ahead of him, pretending certainty she did not feel.

Talia looked at him solemnly.  She had tried to think of ways to stop him from pursuing this final confrontation, and yes, seducing him had been among the options.  She’d known exactly how to manipulate his feelings. If she’d chosen to, she could’ve wrapped him up in obsession, until he thought of nothing but finding his way back to her bed again.

And as she’d told him in Toulon, she cared too much for Jason to do that to him.  To make him just another pawn, another man helplessly ensnared by her beauty … no, the mere thought offended her sensibilities.  

“I should hope you have reasons of your own for surviving this,” Talia told him, her voice still husky.  “And I am in your bed solely because this is where I want to be, Jason.”

That won her a brief, bright smile, and her heart sang at the sight of it.  “That’s how I wanted it,” he told her, pale blue eyes dancing.

“I should hope this is where you want me,” Talia replied, prompting him a little.

Jay put out his cigarette, grinning, and rolled atop her, catching her lips in a kiss that tasted of menthol.  His weight was sweet upon her, all youth and strength and joy in himself, and she arched her spine delightedly.  “No, _this_ is where I want you,” Jay murmured, and for a little while longer, Talia let herself just enjoy being with him.


End file.
